


I'm Just Here For The Life Experience

by Mayamelissa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But also not self-insert if that makes sense, Chapter 3 deals with some heavy stuff, Fem!Harry, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Hagrid bashing at least for now, Hagrid means well but fails at his job, Her name is Hadriana, I can't tag worth shit sorry, I don't know why but I keep making Harry a female, I forgot to add a trigger warning about referenced child abuse, I have to up the rating because keep dropping the f bomb, It says original female character but that's actually Harry, Or Hadriana, Self-Insert, Tags will be added, This is a crack fic, but it feels like one, i suck at keeping to schedules, it's not a self insert, like hopefully not too cracky but there's crack, really fucking OP main, so like sometimes soon and then a whole lot of time passes, somebody tell me if I should up this to mature, this gets updated when I get a chapter done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2020-02-29 23:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18788134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayamelissa/pseuds/Mayamelissa
Summary: I got something to tell you: Harry Potter don't exist in this verse. He was born a she and then she died. That's when I took over. As far as this world is concerned though the Girl Who Lived is living all happiness and roses and bubblegum and rainbows! They don't have a clue what's really going on. Hell I barely have a clue and I'm a walking canon/fanfcition encyclopedia!But yeah, sorry. Harry doesn't exist and I'm now the MC.The world is fucking doomed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I made a crack fic because I was miserable and this MC wouldn't shut the hell up. She just kept on yelling in my head. So I let her out. Now she's y'all's problem too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to come back and fix something since I finally got around to listening to the audiobook and found out I didn't have to put anything after Cokeworth. Also I flipped my lid when I found out in the book they'd stopped at a hotel in Cokeworth. Chapter 3 had some fun things.

There’s a very odd feeling in my chest as I stare at the letter in my hands. Beautiful script on high quality paper - or maybe it was parchment given its’ origins. My name and address on the front; a wax seal bearing the school’s crest sealing it closed on the back.

 

**Miss Hadriana Potter**

**Number 13 Dunwich Circle**

**Cokeworth**

I’m torn between giddy and irritated. An actual real life Hogwarts letter! It’s got to be an acceptance letter otherwise why would I even receive it, yes? Although that would be hilarious if I were to open it up and it say, “Dear Miss Potter, we regret to inform you do not meet the requirements to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” A loud snort escapes me as I envision that message being within. Well maybe a bit disappointing since it’s Hogwarts and the people who will be attending and the ones who teach there.

I idly wonder if anyone even took the time to notice I’m no longer where that old fool placed me all those years ago on that cold November night. But then I recall the event in my fourth year and then following one when I was six and well… if no one from the magical community had noticed before, why now?

Remembering what I witnessed from the first film and the cluster of owls that tended to flock outside, I open the door to check and see if the delivery owl is waiting outside. It is in fact waiting no doubt for a response. “My apologies for not having a window open, Gorgeous, but up until this point I haven’t had any other post but Muggle based and thus postal owls aren’t part of my daily routine.”

It blinks (if you will pardon the pun) owlishly at me before flapping it wings a bit. “Well I never thought I’d meet a human who spoke owl!” it said in surprise. “How interesting!”

I wasn’t about to correct it by telling it that I was gifted with the ability to converse with all beasts instead of a purely avian speaker so I just smiled. “Well I hope the surprise is pleasant. Would you mind waiting out here while I pen my reply? I’m afraid I don’t have any owl treats - previous lack of postal owl familiarity and all - but I might be able to scrounge up a mouse if that’s a good substitute?”

“Oh it’s not bother at all! A good chance to rest the wings. And a spot of meat for the old gullet would be well appreciated! I’ll just be waiting here! The weather promises to hold out and remain pleasant and the winds are moderate. A good day for delivering post!”

I went back inside the house and closed the door behind me. I tap the letter on my open palm as I wander into the kitchen, summon my breakfast from a food dimension, and then summon me a pen and paper. “Or wait it’s called a biro, isn’t it? British call them biros,” I remind myself out loud. Have to remember that if I’m ever meeting another muggle born or muggle raised. American terms are going to fly right over their heads.

I turn the letter over and am about to break the wax seal when I remember about things like compulsion spells being a regular written occurrence. Well shit. It’s not hard to imagine that would be a thing to happen despite my particular lack of a certain old man’s visible presence in my life so far. But given the events ahead and what’s to come, I should be more fucking careful. Things have veered off canon quite as it is and though there’s never been proof in the books or movies Dumbledick cast dark magic on Harry, his judgement is questionable and I don’t trust him.

He left Harry or rather ME on a doorstep in November wrapped in a blanket with a note in the care of two extremely vile and bigoted individuals who had the misfortune of breeding. People who think it’s just fine to beat a helpless child to the brink of death if they find something that doesn’t conform to their perceived ideals. That will literally throw a broken bodied child into the cupboard under the stairs and leave her for days without checking on her. Not caring if she died and something took over her body.

I have to pity Dudley. I really do.

Well, until he becomes aware enough and responsible for his own choices. Then the pity stops.

Oh right… I’ve got breakfast to eat and letter to look over. Whoops!

“Now let’s see if a certain champion of the greater good tried to mess with me, shall we?” I ask aloud.

I summon a floating bubble shield that will both contain the letter and run a diagnosis on it, slipping it inside the sphere without touching it. To be honest, I should have done this when I first spotted the letter on my doormat since I’ve not gotten any mail since I moved here - I even managed to avoid acquiring junk mail to this point. However seeing a letter - _that letter in particular_ \- had been slipped through my mail slot laying on my floor was just so weird.

I _would_ scold myself or make a note not to touch strange objects but I’m not gonna fool myself. I’ll do it anyways.

“Preliminary scan complete. Subject status is negative for compulsion spells or other harmful magics.”

The dulcet tones of GlaDOS fill my ears because I decided to have an audio cue instead of merely a visual one to tell me when it was done. Yeah the game series won’t be made until the 2000s and may not even exist in this universe, but my little heart wants to hear that iconic voice and since I’m a god I can do that.

I hover a butterknife and send it into the bubble shield, closing it after insertion. I use it to wandlessly pry the seal free from the back of the letter, unfolding the parchment. No color change to the letter or shield so far. Promising. I take a bite of my breakfast (a tasty collection of American-styled bacon, sausage links, and pecan pancakes with sunny side up eggs) and sip my glass of grapefruit juice while I wait for results. I know I could just say, “This letter is perfectly normal” and be done with it but I rather enjoy this process. I mean sometimes there’s just no fun to be had if all you have to do is wave your hand and boom! Done.

Besides, I’m not in any rush, am I?

After I finish checking this thing, I’m gonna have to figure out which path I want to take in regards to handling this situation. I’ve got two ways I can go with this. No, wait three. Definitely three paths to choose from.

Number One: I can go the more canon route and not respond at all. Wait until Dumbledore sends Hagrid and see how that goes. After all Hagrid should be able to track me down and from what I know he’s been rather excited to see me. Or to be more precise Harry/Hadriana. Poor fella is more than likely as clueless as the rest of the wizarding world in knowing what’s happened.

Number Two: I can merely respond to the owl and go to Diagon Alley myself. I haven’t been there yet because I’ve been too into my own plans here on the Muggle side of the world. Plus even with my very impressive ability to break Gamp’s Law, I don’t know what the currency is like besides knowing what it is. I remember seeing galleons in the film but I never saw a silver piece or a knut. I don’t like to steal so never thought about heading to the Leaky Cauldron and pickpocketing anyone for a base piece. And Dumbledick has control of my vault key. I don’t know how happy the Goblins would be with me sauntering in and saying, “Hello, Ser. My name is Hadriana Potter. I’ve been living in the muggle world kept completely in the dark about the wizarding one until just now. Albus Dumbledore is the only one who has been able to access my vaults so I don’t have a key. Can you help me, please?”

Actually that may make them happy if my memories of fanfiction is anything to go by.

Number Three: I can respond by saying thanks but no thanks and see what happens. Maybe hint in a very unsubtle manner that since no one in the magical world decided to do anything for me until now, I think I’ll stay here. Return the favor of being left in the care of such a wonderful, caring family who I couldn’t bear to be parted with since they took me in off their doorstep that November. 10 years ago. After being left alone in the dark and cold with no one to make sure I would be okay! How about I add a nice little go fuck yourselves at the end?

I inhale sharply, my grip on my silverware going unbearably tight as I try to reign in my temper. The idea that it happened in the books is anger inducing enough when you don’t have a real attachment to the events outside fiction. But it’s my body, my reality, _my existence_ now. Anger becomes rage when what was simple words you read on paper or you watched detached on the screen and they become your life. Something you experience.

I’m just glad I have my powers so I can be ready for anything this world might throw my way.

Now that I think about it, I can’t go Number One aka the canon route because I did promise the owl I would give them my response and a mouse for their trouble. It would be really rude to change my mind now. Plus the constant influx of so many owls hanging around my house and the neighborhood isn’t an appealing idea.

Idea number one is discarded.

I keep eating and turn my focus on option two. If I go on my own, I have to balance keeping my identity hidden while switching between my adult form and my biological age form. Most of the shopping can be done with A-form but with stuff like Madame Malkin’s and Twilfit and Tattings, I’d need to be in my B-form. Hidden identity can be easily done with invisibility or notice-me-not or a perception bender until I’m in a building doing business. Keep the throng’s eyes off me until necessary.

Easy enough.

My problem is Goblins. Or rather how the hell am I gonna deal with the Goblins. If this was a crack verse or I was some high level identifiable being, I could easily broach them. They’d know who I was and go out of their way to help me and make things easy. If I was say Death or Lady Magic herself then it would be easy as pie. They’d bend over backwards for me if I was secretly those two.

Instead I’m… well, me. There’s no hidden master vault filled with riches beyond compare and items of wonder waiting for me. No useful magical creatures ready to assist me on my road to life here.

“I walk a lonely road, the only one that I have ever known,” I sing to myself. Oh good. I now have Boulevard of Broken Dreams playing in my head. It flits between the Green Day version and Utada Hikaru’s cover because of course my mind can’t distinguish which rendition it wants to listen to more so it just smushes them together in some kind of remix. It’s not bad but it is rather annoying when you want to listen to a particular one. I need to quickly get it out of me before I get more distracted.

I use my powers to crank on the different full length versions of this bothersome melody trapped in my brain, letting them play through the little cd boombox I have set up in the corner of the kitchen. The volume will be low but still loud enough not to overpower my thoughts like if it were still lingering in my brain. I know this is cheating reality alongside time and space but I need to focus.

Number two definitely feels like a Gryffindor thing to do. Would take some serious courage and iron will to pull off. Harry was Gryffindor even if the hat wanted to put him in Slytherin. But I’m not exactly Harry Potter, am I? Knowing me, I’ll end up in Hufflepuff staring at Edward Cullen’s handsome ass for the next few years until Volde-fuck gets resurrected during the TriWizard Tourney and he dies because we grabbed the cup at the same time.

Would you please focus, you stupid cunt? My inner voice shouts.

I glance up at the letter in the bubble and send it a glare. “This is your fault,” I tell it and shove a sausage link into my mouth. Even if the thing is still coming back negative for compulsion and harmful spells, I’m blaming my off track thoughts on it.

I’ll ponder branch path three since I keep losing concentration when regarding number two.

This one has the most potential to be honest. If I write back telling them no, someone is going to come and investigate why. At least I freaking hope so. Because I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t just see the response envelope and assume-

Oh god. What if they _are_ actually that stupid to see the envelope and not read the reply letter within?

I now have the vision of me sending in my reply and no one reading it and then everyone realizes by the time school has started that Harry - sorry, Hadriana Potter isn’t to be found is because no one was paying attention or doing their damn job! People would lose their collective shit at the Sorting Ceremony when my name would be called but I’m not present. Nobody will have spotted a girl bearing a lightning bolt scar on the train because she wasn’t on the Hogwarts Express or at King’s Cross Station at Platform 9 3/4s.

I finish my breakfast very much determined to go with plan number three. I’ll have to cast a couple of charms to make sure I can show proof it was received, who handled it, and who if anyone read it. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Hmmm…

Maybe I’ll put in a condition that if they wish to visit, three people of my choosing can come and speak with me to convince me to attend.

The smile on my lips is positively evil because I know exactly which three individuals I want.

After retrieving the acceptance letter from the bubble holding it, I go and read it twice over just to ensure it’s what I expect.

It is.

Right down to the supplies list and that stupid stereotypical pointed hat.

Oh this is going to be fun!

 

**Dear Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,**

**I regret to inform you that I will not be able to accept your offer to study at your no doubt illustrious and highly acclaimed institution. My living situation is rather complicated and up until this point I have had to follow alternative methods to educate myself. I do not feel as if Hogwarts can enhance my learning experience as up until receiving this letter I was under the impression magic did not exist. Furthermore I do not possess funds for purchasing items that will no doubt be purely obtainable in a magical forum and I highly doubt the British pound carries over into wizarding currency.**

**I thank you for your time.**

**Sincerest Regards,**

**H. Potter**

 

“And now a word from my guardian.”

 

**Dear Deputy Headmistress,**

**I am the current guardian of Miss Hadriana Potter and have been so since her previous living situation became unfitting. I have also provided her education since she came to live with me at six years of age. As we are both quite happy with the current arrangement, the offer to study at Hogwarts is unneeded.**

**If you however feel a visit to speak with us again is warranted, I expect you to do the following:**

**Owl me your response in no less than two weeks of receiving this letter so we may arrange a date and time convenient to discuss this situation.**

**Please inform me of the current whereabouts and employment of Severus Tobias Snape.**

**When these things have been done to my satisfaction as well as one other item, you may meet with Hadriana. I would advise you not to attempt to contact her again and send any further letters to me. Given her very unique position in the wizarding world, I must maintain constant vigilance. You understand of course.**

**Sincerely,**

 

Oh shit. I need an alias.

Until now I’ve not needed one. I don’t pay bills. My house is hidden. Any shopping done is paid for in cash so I never have to sign anything. I don’t do anything that requires identification so I don’t have an ID with a fake name. I’ve been living unseen. A phantom of sorts.

But now I gotta figure out a name.

I twirl the biro between my fingers as I peruse my vast mental library of different names I could use. It takes me a while because I keep thinking about famous female authors or comic book characters or a few female singers I enjoyed listening to in my past life/lives.

My evil grin returns as I realize I know just the one.

 

**Sincerely,**

**Daniella Radcliffe**

 

No one will get the joke except me and I’m okay with that. Will not stop the giggles and smiles if someone calls me it.

I seal the two part reply into an envelope and then I cast a tracking spell, an ‘identify handler’ spell and a ‘who’s been reading me’ spell. I don’t know if these exist in canon or fanon so I’m just going to say they’re mine. I enchant a notepad to write who does what in regards to the letter, retrieve a mouse for the postal owl and then send it off with my best wishes.

And now I wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting is hard. It sucks. Also my sound system might be self aware.

You’d think I’d have mastered patience by now.

I mean I freaking have lived several lives across different universes with different life experiences so patience should be something I’ve got a decent handle on. But I’m also biologically a small child and we don’t have the greatest track record on waiting for something to happen.

Which is why I keep checking the notepad every hour for any change with what’s happening with my response letter.

The owl delivered it back to Hogwarts a few hours after I sent them off. The a couple of days of silence with no change on who’s handling it. I’m guessing it might be because Minerva as well as a few other teachers are out hand delivering to muggle born and raised students so they can converse with the parents and students in person.

As much as it doesn’t surprise me no one deemed me worthy of a hand delivered letter since I’m Hadriana Potter, it pisses me off because it shows just how much they all assume I know everything. The gross arrogance and over(under?)estimation of the situation at hand by these people really pisses me off.

And no, it doesn’t count that I actually do know canon because I’m a fucking reality hopping omnipotent being! That has no bearings on how this mess was handled and I’m praying I can keep myself from ranting or hexxing him if I ever meet Albus Dumbledore face to face!

Breathe, bitch.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

Ever since I gained my freedom and set up a base of operations in Cokeworth, I’ve been dabbling with the idea of finding the horcruxes. Well at least the one that resides in Little Hangleton. All the others reside in places not easily accessible to me. The diary is at Malfoy Manor. I think the necklace is currently at Grimmauld Place in Kreacher’s possession. The cup should be in the Lestrange vault. The diadem is in the Room of Requirement over at Hogwarts. Nagini isn’t a horcrux yet so I can leave her alone.

Well what about the one that was attached to Hadriana’s body, you ask? What happened to the unexpected horcrux?

Well when she died, it was no longer bound to anything. And despite what canon says, you can’t destroy the soul piece if you destroy the object it’s bound to. Apparently that one fanfic I read was right and we need to perform an exorcism ritual. Or I need to find a way to get Death to talk to me. See what he can tell me; if he can rip them into the Beyond where they belong.

Right now the rather pathetic piece of soul belonging to the man formerly known as Tom Riddle is being held inside a star shaped crystal that I have around my neck. He is barely able to function; curled up into himself as small as possible. Making the motions as if he’s breathing though he has no body that would require it.

I can’t tell if he’s in shock or just waiting and biding his time.

I know I shouldn’t but I have tried to converse with him. I called him by both the name he hates and the name he gave himself. Hell, once I called him Dark Lord and Mister Tom A Dildo Lover.

They all ended the same. Absolutely nothing.

So I’m pretty sure because it wasn’t intentionally made, this piece barely could do much outside of grant parseltongue and be used as a conduit link between Harry and Moldy-Vort. It’s pitiable. And sad.

Much of like Tom’s life before he became the monster the world helped mold him to be.

I am not a Voldemort supporter. I do not agree with what he and his followers did. I do not pity them. I do not sympathize with them. If we meet in battle, I will gladly fight them and more than likely decide to put them down like rabid dogs. Their ideology is flawed and bigoted and I’m pretty sure the fics are right and murder is the lightest of crimes they’ve committed against those they view as enemies or inferior beings.

What I _am_ is someone who see that Tom Riddle had the odds stacked against him from the go. His conception was the result of rape by his mother to his father who she kept drugged under Amortentia. Because of the potion and coupled with damage done to his DNA due to inbreeding (because we gotta keep the bloodlines pure!), he was already slotted with a handicap. Then Merope Gaunt went and died of a broken heart because she was stupid enough to take Tom Riddle off the potion. He - like any intelligent person who has undergone horrific trauma should do - left her as fast as his legs could carry him. This ended with the baby which was Tom Marvolo Riddle with no parents, no familial ties, and no one to teach and nurture him. So again: he’s got more stuff stacked against him.

Next stop on our train of understanding is Wool's Orphanage. A place lacking in compassion and with no warmth to be had. Things got worse over the years because of the war and it wasn’t exactly nice to live in before World War Two. To say the environment and people at Wool’s promoted more negative coping and outlets for Tom’s problems is like saying blood is red. He wasn’t like all the other little boys and girls so naturally he stood out and got picked on. Which he returned tenfold. He had no one to explain what his powers were. He had no one he could confide in. He was alone.

That mountain intimidating anyone yet?

And what happens when someone finally arrives that can help him understand he’s not some freak or crazy person? Someone he hopes that because they have answers to his questions, he can be honest with and tell them he likes hurting people? He’s met with another kind of distrust and isolation. Dumbledore doesn’t think maybe he can help Tom try to find a way not to hurt people or find other things he likes to do than inflict suffering. Doesn’t try and figure out the root of why making others writhe in pain makes Tom smile. No. He becomes a poor excuse for a handler and warden, leaving a young boy once again facing a mountain of challenges and problems.

I _know_ things were different then. You can say it until you’re blue in the face. But the fact is this: Tom Marvolo Riddle was a monster made not a monster born.

I will never support him. Unless we find ourselves in a reality where Dumbledore was the actual evil mastermind behind it all like some fics have him written. If that happens I better still have my powers because Dumbledore will wish he were dead long before I end his life.

I go and check the notepad and find nothing new has been added. No one has handled the letter nor has anyone read it. It’s apparently just sitting somewhere, waiting for someone.

A couple of days turns into a week of no change and I’m trying to give them the benefit of the doubt that they’re all just really busy helping the muggleborns and raised. We never got a headcount in either books or film of how many there were that first year during Philosopher's Stone (and I will call it the Philosopher’s Stone even if I _was_ an American in the previous life and my initial introduction was it being Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone).

I spend my days normally, with a slight retraction in my constant checking for changes. My anxiety comes back in a roaring fashion when it’s two days left for my conditions to be met and my reply is still sitting where ever it is in Hogwarts untouched.

I had anticipated them handling any responses as they arrived. Maybe even being magically separated into piles marked as rejected and accepted so the staff would know what it contained.

But this lack of action… It’s pissing me off.

Am I arrogant in thinking they should be paying more attention? Is it a sense of entitlement if I want them to respond so soon? To want them to even take note?

Oh perfect! Now I’m wallowing in self doubt because no one is paying attention to me. This is never a good thing. Wallowing in self-doubt is going to lead to another round of self-hatred and pity and mourning on what I’ll never have again. Something I’d been able to avoid since my past life where I was trapped and powerless. I don’t wanna return to that mindset. As nice as it was to learn all I could about different fandoms, I do not want to return. I had few friends, no lovers or love interests and I died a 45 year old virgin living in poverty. I consumed a vast amount of pornagraphy most of which was animated or in fanfictions and had myself for company.

I think  we all can see how I would like to avoid repeating that life if possible.

Well that snapped me out of the self doubt.

I wonder if I should go to the Leaky Cauldron and attempt to explore Diagon Alley. I won’t be shopping for school but I could visit Gringotts and see what the Goblins are like in real life. I have a good amount of muggle money and hopefully the exchange rate is decent. Three hundred pounds should be more than enough. Hopefully not too much since I don’t want to accidentally insult the Goblin Nation. Anymore than I would do canon wise.

I ignore the urge to cast a compulsion of my own making on the letter through sheer will alone and make plans if they pass the deadline and no one responds. They can try and blame me or rather my guardian if I don’t show up in September but I have copies of my rejection letter, ways to show I’m been monitoring the progress of my letter, and have more than sufficient skill to protect myself if things get aggressive. I’m covered. The staff at Hogwarts including and most certainly Albus Dumbledore isn’t.

My thoughts and preparations consume the rest of my afternoon. I give the notepad one final look before I head to bed and holy shit! Somebody finally did something while I was brooding!

Both letter handled by Filius Flitwick. Read by Filius Flitwick.

Both letters handed off to Minerva McGonagall. Read by Minerva McGonagall.

Both letters handed off to Albus Dumbledore. Read by Albus Dumbledore.

Letter by Daniella Radcliffe handed off to Severus Snape. Read by Severus Snape.

“Looks like he does exist after all,” I muse out loud. No doubt the sullen bastard is going to be confused and probably really pissed why a stranger wants to know where he is and where he’s working. But given how I found his home and the place was devoid of any sign that someone has lived there in years? I was beginning to think we were missing a crucial character. Hell the only reason I chose Cokeworth was because I knew that’s where Spinners End was! I was hoping I could track him down, maybe get him to help me out. I don’t know how he would have but it was worth a shot!

But, like I said, the house hadn’t shown signs of anyone residing there or receiving visitors in a long time. No one ever answered when I managed to get the courage and knock on the front door.

I never broke into the house either to see if I could find a clue about him even though I was freaking tempted to do so.

There was no realtor listing so I knew he hadn’t put it up for sale at least on the Muggle side.

How the hell did I miss him all this time?!

Maybe I should have composed letters and stuffed them in his mail slot.

Now my brain is all wired because of this news and I can’t bring myself to sleep. Not that my body requires slumber to recharge but dreams are fun and sleep is relaxing. I do it mostly out of habit, a little reminded that hey! You were human. Once. Gotta blend in with the natives!

I’m back to sitting on the edge emotionally, wondering what’s going to happen next. I should receive an owl tomorrow with their response.

Unless they actually accept my rejection letter and leave me alone.

I doubt they will since Hadriana is a major figure in the wizarding world and they don’t know who Daniella Radcliffe is nor what her qualifications as an educator consist of.

I really hope they don’t suddenly show up unannounced. That’d be rude. Not to mention a waste of time. I’ve got more than a few measures installed to deter uninvited guests from knocking on my door. It’s why I haven’t gotten any post before the owl came along. Animals can see and come onto the property but humans and most other species don’t have that ability. I have no clue if it works on animagus or werewolves.

Not that I can contact Remus Lupin and have him come check. Any contact info he might have left to Hadriana or in Lily and James’ things never came into the Dursley family hands. There’s also no Remus Lupin in the telephone book.

Fuck! I could have used my powers and sent him a letter, couldn’t I?

Why didn’t I do that?

Oh yeah because I found him insanely attractive in my past life with liberal splashings of erotic  fanfiction and even more xxx-rated fantasies rampaging through my hormone filled brain, that’s why. I didn’t want to make things horribly awkward.

I end up making me some hot chocolate because Remus inspires chocolate consumption. A hot carafe of the semi sweet liquid and a good book will help pass the time until I doze off.

Yes I did brew it myself without using my powers, thank you very much.

What the hell is playing on my living room sound system? My eyes focus on the object in question. Oh, another song that won’t be written and performed for a good ten, twenty years. Thank the stars I never have company. I just realized I must have left it on. Or it turned itself on when I entered the area. Yes, I bought and altered more than one music player for the house. I got a nice big set up in the living room. Nothing overly ostentatious but it’s large, has good speakers and it plays cassettes, cds, and records. There’s the CD boombox in the kitchen. Then I have a radio/cassette player in the bedroom. All three of these I fixed so that when I tune it to a certain bandwidth, it will play music from my past lives.

I have yet to buy a television set and I don’t know when I will if at all.

It’s not because they can be large and cumbersome. Or depending on the one I wanted I would have to have someone deliver it to the house. I would very much like to watch the telly and see the British comedies I grew up with in my past life on public television in America airing for the first time or see Doctor Who coming to me from the real actual BBC.

No, it has to do with one of the reasons the Dursley family doesn’t live in the United Kingdom anymore.

The carafe is half finished and there are some _really_ depressing songs playing on my radio. I look over at the radio as it begins the opening guitar chords for Brad Paisley’s Whiskey Lullaby after deciding to play Lady Antebellum’s Need You Now on repeat twice without me telling it to. “Uh uh! You are not playing that shit tonight,” I command. “I do not need tears, depression, and loneliness right now! You can play Katy Perry’s Wide Awake or turn off.”

Radio was not in the mood for the sweet vocals of Miss Perry, apparently.

Yes, I do talk to my appliances like they are sentient and don’t give a shit if anyone cares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fan Fictions referenced are:  
> Game Over, Try Again by A_Perverted_Romance_Addict (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642862/chapters/44210119)
> 
> Mr. Tom A Dildo Lover is from You Get What You Give by Watermelonsmellinfellon  
> My sincerest thanks to user 13stars for helping me to remember  
> (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14462256/chapters/33410763)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The letter exchange ends being with Dumbledick instead of McGonagall and I now have to learn some Naruto anime jujitsu if I'm going to pull off the meeting. Good times.

Around noon, a new letter arrives for Daniella Radcliffe bearing the Hogwarts seal. I did not expect that. The official Hogwarts seal, I mean.

I remember my thoughts from the first time I got a letter and am not going to be picking it up with my bare hands again. I summon the bubble diagnostic shield and put it in there. Then the pair of us head into the living room where I put away last night’s book. I have a lot of books, most of them hardback because they stack and stand so pretty. You never know how limited your choices of activities are when you’re living in a pre-internet world.

This is another reason why I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t end up in Gryffindor. I am not a brave person. I find me a safe place and stay there. I’m a creature of reflex and reaction. Very chill; not daring. I think I very much am a Hufflepuff.

I am still surprised I even went out of my way to attempt to locate Snape when I moved to Cokeworth. I have slight anxiety attacks when I flash back to me approaching his door and knocking on it. I’m partially glad I never met him because what was my plan? “Excuse me, Ser? Is your name Severus Snape? I’m trying to find the man who was a friend of my mother because she told me to find him for help.”

My plan was to convince him I had at one point spoken with my dead mother, apparently, and she said go find Snape. If or when he would ask why, my answer would be simple: Because Albus Dumbledore wasn’t to be trusted with my safety. Then I’d show him.

I may have two different bodies I walk around in: the child one and the adult one. But there’s what we gamers would call a hidden costume skin.

It’s the way Hadriana looked when I took over all those years ago in that dark cupboard under the stairs. Besides the lightning bolt scar on her forehead she has a burn covering the opposite side of her face reminiscent of Todoroki from My Hero Academia. Directly over her eye. Her ear on that side of her head is mangled and there are ugly burns from where oil splattered on her lower arms.

It’s not pretty.

It is horrible.

Everytime I look at that form, I see necrotic holes where bone can be seen from the rot. As you can imagine I don’t look at it too often because the sight is painful. Only when I feel the need to remind myself this is who I took over do I look. This is - _was_ the Girl-Who-Lived. The Saviour of the Wizarding World. Their hero they toast drinks to in the pubs. The one where fandom says they wrote adventure books about and canon says she’s listed in their history books.

I’m now her because no one gave a shit to make sure she was safe all these years. Because Albus fuckwad Dumbledore placed trust in the blood wards but didn’t give a thought that the monsters living in the house wouldn’t hurt Hadriana, even when McGonagall warned him they were some of the worst Muggles she’d ever watched.

I have had to craft a new body by using the old one because it is too horrifying to show people.

I keep the memory of the body as a hidden skin to remind myself of this.

I need to hit something. Or someone.

The letter is free of spells and compulsions and I read the words within.

 

**Dear Miss Radcliffe,**

**Very rarely does a student reject admittance to Hogwarts, so Miss Potter’s response was rather attention grabbing**

 

“Yeah it had y’all’s attention so much nobody noticed it existed for almost two weeks,” I comment.

 

**We at Hogwarts take our students safety and education quite seriously**

 

“Bullshit, because while there’s obviously muggle studies as a subject what do the muggle born and raised kids have to help them learn about the wizarding world? Let’s throw them head first into the water and hope they don’t drown!”

 

**and as someone who had at one point was close with Hadriana’s parents, the knowledge that she is living with someone outside of her relatives and her previous situation became unfit is concerning for me.**

 

“It should be.”

 

**I would be very open to meeting with both you and Hadriana to discuss her rescinding her rejection as well as learning more about what has happened since last she was seen.**

 

Well shit. I should have realized that might be an option but I was prepared to meet them in the room as either Haddy or Daniella. Meeting as two separate bodies in the same room might be hard to do. I can’t split myself in two. Well maybe I can? Do some kind of Shadow Clone Jutsu when they come visit. Might work.

 

**I can visit you within the second week of August so please owl me with the time that is most convenient for you so we may get things squared away. I hope I can convince you both that attending Hogwarts is very important and crucial to Hadriana’s future.**

 

Oh I have no doubt it is important but not in the way they think it is.

 

**As to your inquiries of one Severus Tobias Snape. The name isn’t very common and there is a man working here as a teacher in charge of Potions who goes by that name. I do not know if he is the one you are inquiring after though so I am not comfortable in relaying his private information to you, especially without his permission. Perhaps if you can explain why you need to know of this man and how you have come to know his name, I can assist you in discovering if he is the one you seek.**

 

You pretty much did just confirm that he’s the one I’m looking for, I scoff inwardly. It’s like whoever is writing thinks that information is a juicy apple and I’m starving. I wonder if that is exactly the situation.

 

**Please owl me back as soon as possible so that a visit may be arranged.**

**Sincerest respects,**

**Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore**

 

I sit there blinking, ignoring the parts at the bottom where he lists all his titles. Likely added there as a some form of making Daniella intimidated. So the headmaster himself decided to reply instead of Minerva, hmm? I guess I got their attention.

Not like I didn’t want it after all so I’m not worried.

I will need to make sure he knows I will only meet with him if he brings Minerva and Snape with him for the visit. I’m not meeting him in my headquarters alone. That would be like Superman letting Lex Luthor into the Fortress of Solitude.

I hope there was never a moment in comic history where he willingly just let that happen otherwise that comparison just went to shit.

Joker being welcomed into the Batcave, maybe?

I need to focus.

I go to where my desk is and get out some paper and a biro and write down my response.

 

**Dear Headmaster Dumbledore,**

**Thank you for taking time out of your no doubt busy schedule to pen a reply to my letter. Obviously a man of such impressive titles is very busy with not only running a school but also a high ranking official in the wizarding world. You must be quite an impressive man to have garnered such status.**

**That must make the fact of Hadriana’s relocation and care even more concerning for you as you yourself claim to have been close with her parents.**

**It’s sad how things can slip through the cracks, isn’t it? Children are often the biggest victims of negligence and it is heartbreaking when we find ourselves having been ignorant of strife when we had thought ourselves in a position to know.**

 

Okay, dial it down, sweetheart. You sound like you’re trying to insult him and it’s coming off pompous and ill worded. Although technically I am trying to insult him in the most sophisticated words I have.

 

**Monday August 5th around ten am would work for both Hadriana and I. You obviously have our address so there’s no need to write it down. However we insist that Deputy Headmistress McGonagall as well as Professor Snape accompany you to our meeting. Otherwise I will not be removing the protections on our house and allowing you entry. You may not know who I am, Sir, but your reputation precedes you even without the listing of your awards.**

**Speaking of Professor Snape, I am more than adequately convinced that the man in your employ is the one I am looking for. It is actually for Hadriana that I am making the inquiries to find him. Hadriana was informed that her mother once had a very dear friend named Severus Snape who grew up with her here in Cokeworth that she cared for very much and although they grew apart, she still thought of him fondly.**

 

I really shouldn’t say that. I don’t know if Lily still thought fondly of him and it would be cruel for me to make him assume as much. Yes, some sources say Rowling said Lily had been pregnant and had convinced James to bury the hatchet with Snape but that's post books and movies and I don't know this world. Personally I hate that bit because it makes things worse. I remove that last bit after the dear friend who lived in Cokeworth and continue.

 

**I hope that bit of information I have given you on the reason I am searching for Mister Snape is enough to aid us in our search.**

**Sincerely,**

**Daniella Radcliffe**

 

I put the pen down, cast a spell to have the penmanship match the previous letter written by my guardian and then send the letter off with the postal owl.

Time to wait again.

 

**~OoOoOoO~**

 

In the evening during dinner another letter free of compulsions and dangerous magic arrives. It’s from Dumbldick and he agrees to the time and date I specified. He also seems intrigued that it is Hadriana who asked about Snape and confirms that the professor in his employ is the same one we’ve been seeking.

Good.

Unless something kicks the world state in its head, I should be fine with what I know. Let’s just hope I can handle things in person just as smoothly as I envision me doing it.

He mentions that although McGonagall is usually quite busy both she and Snape will agree to attend our meeting. I didn’t think it would be that easy but okay! Good.

I send back a letter stating I look forward to meeting them and I will see them at 10 am on August 5th.

This gives me about a week and half to see if I can properly Shadow Clone Jutsu and see how long it will last.

Once again, I know I’m a freaking omnipotent being with unlimited power but I need to test these things. And things get very boring sometimes. Besides I am bound to this body. There have to be some kind of physical restraints on it.

It can’t all be that easy.

Actually it can, I just don’t want to accept it.

What was I doing again? Oh yeah, planning on introducing Naruto ninja skills into Harry Potterverse like a fucking crazy person.

“Eh, what the fuck. Let’s do it!”

Time to get to work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dreaded meeting. Goes pretty well.

Technically learning Shadow Clone Jutsu wasn’t difficult.

Technically.

I mean it was easy given what I have the capacity to do.

It’s just… It was so  _ weird _ seeing another me. Standing across from me. 

Looking at me. 

That I could touch. 

Then the second one of me was transformed into the adult body of me and let me tell you: I am one sexy bitch as a grown up. Definitely got the good genetics with this life!

In case anyone is like, well why were you so impressed? Well because there’s seeing yourself in the mirror and then there’s seeing a one hundred percent living flesh and blood version of yourself in all your glory. 

No, I was not naked!

Get your heads out of the gutter!

It’s also very disconcerting because I can feel a kind of connection with my clone but it’s not like telepathic or a sharing of the senses. It’s hard to explain.

A part of me thought I was gonna have trouble and like smash heads with myself. But Clone me is actually rather chill. We definitely know which of us is the original when I perform the spell. The sense of self is there but it’s more like I’ve kind of sectioned a part off?

Does this make sense?

Anyways it works like in Naruto and that’s a big success I think.

Unfortunately time felt like it moved forward much faster than I was comfortable with and that dreaded day has arrived.

I get both of us dressed and after a paper rock scissors match between the pair of us, I got to be the grown up. Which I’m actually more comfortable with kind of during this meeting. Although if someone gets it in their head to attack me and grab Hadriana, they’re gonna be in for a rude surprise. Situation isn’t that dire but I still have lingering paranoia.

I have a list of questions I actually wrote down. Some of them were relocated to a different list because I don’t think asking if there’s a secondary gender like Alpha/Beta/Omega would be appropriate at this point. Maybe a Goblin inheritance test could answer that.

Yes I did read those types of fics in my last life. And I loved them!

I lowered the protection wards against magical snoopers thirty minutes before their timed arrival so they were able to enter my property without problems. The doorbell is rung and I (Daniella) answer it while Hadriana waits upstairs. I told her she could go sit in the kitchen but bedroom apparently felt safer and easier to curb the anxiety. Not that I was going to argue. I think we’re both more than a little on edge.

Breathe in deep. Exhale.

I open the door.

All three of them are there. Dumbledore is standing in front with McGonagall and Severus behind him at his sides. They appear almost exactly like movie version them. Snape’s hair is pulled back in a ponytail being the only difference I can see. Oh and Maggie Smith looks a little younger.

I take comfort in the way they appear. Probably more than I should.

“Ah, Ms. Radcliffe, I presume?”

“You presume correctly,” I reply to Dumbledore. He smiles and it could easily be called grandfatherly. Unfortunately I am not easily taken in.

“I am Headmaster Dumbledore. These are my colleagues, Professor Minerva McGonagall.” We exchange hellos and nods of greeting. “And this is Professor Severus Snape.”

He looks like this is the last place he wants to be and if I have and grasp of his character, it probably is. Still he gives a curt nod in welcome.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” I greet and step aside, motioning them to come in. Dumbledore leads and once they cross the threshold, I close the door. Great. They’re in my house.

Why did I think this was a good idea?!

I wave my hand in the direction of the living room. “If you’ll all just have a seat on the couch in the living room, make yourselves comfortable?” I do not know how my voice is staying even because the longer I’m standing in proximity of Snape (and yes it’s definitely him because fucking Alan Rickman) I want to bolt.

Here’s a secret. In my past life I didn’t find a lot of people attractive. Or rather I wasn’t really around a lot of people I thought of as extremely attractive. Like I said, I was pretty much confined to a solitary life. One day I did end up interacting with someone I was attracted to. He also happened to be a very well known voice actor who played on one of my favorite television series. I became terrified and wanted to run away. I didn’t though because I was stuck in my chair. He found it funny when one of my companions told him about it.

I don’t think Severus Snape would find it amusing that strange rando woman finds him highly attractive and wants to run away because of it. Or maybe he would. I hear he is a bit twisted.

We all went into the living room and all three sat down on the couch. I’m debating whether or not I should lay some ground rules. 

Fuck it. 

They do something, I’ll deal with it as it happens. 

“Would anyone like something to drink before I get Hadriana? I can make some tea, coffee or ice water?” Because lord knows I’m going to need something to occupy my mouth while I find my words.

“A pot of tea would be lovely, thank you, Ms. Radcliff,” Dumbledore affirms. McGonagall nods in agreement while Snape slowly glances about the room, taking it in. I look at him for a few seconds before Minerva whispers his name.

“Tea will be acceptable.”

Right. “I’ll be back in a few then.”

One english tea coming up. I summon a silver tea set and brew some Earl Grey while I arrange some cucumber sandwiches cut into fours on a plate. I didn’t eat a large breakfast this morning and shadow clone jutsu burns a lot of energy. I think it’s the introduction of the foreign magic into this universe that causes it to be slightly more taxing than my regular castings because making the tea and sandwiches feels like nothing.

“Let’s hope no one slips anything into the tea while I go collect myself,” I murmur and carry the tray out into the living room. I place it on the coffee table and McGonagall and Dumbledore compliment how it looks as I pour like a good hostess. Dumbledore takes his tea with four sugars. McGonagall likes hers with milk and one scoop of sugar. Professor Snape takes his straight. No sugar, cream, or anything.

I idly wonder if he does it as a protection mechanism. Wouldn’t surprise me.

I don’t pour me a cup yet because fucking christ you don’t leave unattended drinks around strangers and head upstairs to collect Hadriana.

“We’re attracted to Severus Snape, aren’t we?” she asks me and I exhale with a nod. “Oh god!” She flops herself face down on the bed and whimpers in distress through the duvet.

“It’ll be fine,” I say even though I don’t feel like it might be. “Nothing is gonna happen! The man’s too focused on other things and he’s hung up on Lilly. Seriously the odds are against us. Now let’s go downstairs before they can slip something in the pot.”

She nods and we go to our company.

“Ah, Hadriana! How lovely to see you, my dear!” Dumbledore greets kid me as all three of them stand when we enter the room. Child me smiles nervously with a nod but her eyes end up being transfixed on Snape and I have to nudge her towards her seat. She walks to sit at the chair close to the window but stops and instead drags the padded ottoman next to my seat. The need to be close by is very much in effect.

I make Hadriana and me our own cups of tea and a pair of sandwich quarters on the plates. Naturally our tea is similar in make so all I need to do is double portion it all. The room is quiet except for the clink of china and I sit back in my chair. “So,” I start. “Where do we begin?”

“Well I suppose the most simple way would be to ask: How much do you know about magic, Hadriana?”

As an opener to the conversation, it a good start. I think.

“I know enough. It protects the house from people who might hurt us,” she tells him. “And it lets me do things other children wouldn’t be able to.”

Good. let’s keep it vague.

The following conversation is boring and I don’t want to repeat it. Needless to say they gave the whole spiel and shebang about how Hogwarts was one of the top wizarding schools and it had a long and illustrious history and blah blah blah blah blah.

To be fair it was a decent sales pitch; I just wasn’t interested in the speech since I knew all about the place.

“This is all well and good and I’m glad the school has such a profound effect and all,” Hadriana finally said. “But I would actually like my questions answered more than anything. It’s all good what you’re saying, very informative. But it’s the standard home visit speech, isn’t it? You’d give this to all the muggle born and raised kids if you showed up with their Hogwarts letter. The only thing you haven’t done is tried to perform a spell or two.”

McGonagall flushes with what I think is embarrassment while Dumbledore looks at kid me. Snape is still a hard man to read.

“Ah yes,” Albus agrees. “I believe you might be right. So what questions do you have?”

I pull out the list we wrote down. “Well the first one is: how many students currently attend Hogwarts?”

“I don’t have the exact numbers but about six hundred, perhaps.”

We nod and I write that down. “What’s the curriculum? What kind of classes would we be expecting her to take?”

“The core classes which are taught to all students for the next seven years of attendance are: Astronomy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, Transfiguration, and Potions. For first years we have a flying class so that students will become verse by travelling on broom.”

“I teach Transfigurations and have done so for a good forty years,” McGonagall says proudly. “And Professor Snape teaches Potions. He is one of the Youngest Masters on record. He’s highly acclaimed. You’ll find most of the staff are.”

I scribble down the classes listed. “And the school has all the safety equipment like helmets, pads, and the like ready in case of accidents?”

“Oh yes! You’ll find all our equipment up to date,” Dumbledore says. My knowledge from the films say otherwise but without actually going to Hogwarts and taking inventory, I won’t know.

“That’s good. I can’t imagine how bad it would be if a student, especially a first year had a panic attack and fell off their broom without head protection.”

“Our hospital wing is fully stocked and staffed with medi-witches who have years of experience and if something should fall outside their purview, they have easy access to St. Mungo’s in case of emergency,” Dumbledore assured me.

“That’s the regional medical center specializing in magical maladies?”

“It is,” McGonagall piped in. “Largest one in Britain. Young Hadriana was born there.”

“Would I go there or the Ministry of Magic to get a copy of her birth certificate? The Dursley family had no papers to help identify Haddy when she was given to them. It’s a miracle she was allowed to attend any kind of school,” I reminisce. “It’s one of the reasons I’ve been place in the role of educator.”

“Whoever left me on that doorstep didn’t leave me much of anything,” Hadriana commented. “All I knew for the longest time was my parents were drunks and died in a car crash.”

“A car crash?!” Minerva is livid. “James and Lily Potter would never have-”

“Calm yourself, Minerva,” Dumbledore soothed. “I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”

“No, the Dursley were very insistent that’s what happened. Said it was where I got my scar,” child self says. “But Daniella helped me figure out that was a lie. Daniella’s done a lot for me when no one else cared.”

Okay don’t lay it on so thick.

I pet her hair with a fond smile on my face. It’s not fake or acting, I genuinely do care about Hadriana Potter. Even if she’s me and I’m her, I honestly would have gone and rescued her should things have been different and I had the power. No child should suffer like she did. I look back at Dumbledore. “So birth certificate?”

“The Ministry of Magic is where you would go for such an item. However it shouldn’t be needed should young Hadriana attends Hogwarts.”

“Actually I would still need it if she went. I’m pretty sure if she ever plans on having a passport or having an ID card, she’d need it. Non-magicals tend to be sticklers for that sort of thing.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Dumbledore sighs. “However I’m sure she won’t be leaving the country anytime soon so getting her birth certificate isn’t a priority. Did you have any more questions?”

“Do you teach every student through all levels or are they split up where one teacher is in charge of a different grade level?” I look at Snape curiously. He looks back at me with our eyes meeting just a moment. I swear I did not blush! “It’s just that if those classes listed are in fact core ones that will be attended throughout 7 years and you have at least six hundred students, the amount of work that would take… Plus what about if a student has needs for remedial classes or questions about their work?”

“The students are all taught by the same instructor to help promote consistency with their education,” Dumbledore stated.

“And none of them have burned out due to over work?” I ask in shock. I know there were several unidentified teachers in the films and that might have provided some easing of the workload. I mean this is reality! You can’t expect six hundred plus students to be adequately taught by a handful of teachers. And it was in fact a very uneven teacher to student ratio when you consider everything.

If anyone wonders why Snape was as cuddly as a poison spined cactus, there’s your answer! The poor bastard is insanely over worked.

“Now I owe you a serious apology, Professor Snape,” I declare. “I ended up insisting you come for this visit so I - we could meet you face to face!” His face twitches just a touch at my words. “If I’d known you were shouldering that much on your own, I wouldn’t have been so pushy. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’ll try and make sure I don’t give you any trouble during my school year, Sir,” Hadriana adds and I mean it.

“I doubt you will be able to keep that promise, Miss Potter,” he remarks. “Your father was particularly adept at getting into trouble.”

“Hadriana is not her father.” I’m quick to point out. “Neither is she her mother.” I’m not going to let him pull that shit. James Potter and friends bullied the hell out of him and no doubt a whole bunch of other kids. Emotional scars are hard to heal and at least fanon Snape had a lot of trouble healing. But I’m not going to let him judge me on my biological body’s DNA donators.

“So I take it you will be attending Hogwarts come September?” Dumbledore looks at Hadriana who turns to look at me.

“What do you think?”

“Well you do need to learn how to interact with people your own age,” I say with a shrug. “You’d definitely learn new things and you can’t stay in this place for the rest of your life.”

“Actually I could. It would be very easy to pull off.”

“Yes but it would get so boring.” I roll my eyes dramatically. I glance at the three adults sitting on my couch. “I suppose you’ll see Hadriana Potter at Hogwarts on September first then.”

“Splendid!” Dumbledore exclaims, his eyes twinkling as he put his tea cup on the coffee table. He got to his feet; we all doing the same.

“Will you be needing any help or instructions on where to go pick up Hadriana’s supplies?” Minerva asks as we head towards the door.

“To be honest I know how to get them in theory but we’re not exactly familiar with the magical areas like Diagon Alley,” I admit. “I suppose we’ll just wander around London see if we can find the Leaky Cauldron and go from there. Be nice to visit London.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Dumbledore stated. “I have someone who I believe would be glad to help you with your shopping. I’ll owl you after I speak with him.”

Oh I bet you do. Also if you send Hagrid with me it removes the opportunity to get myself an inheritance test and null any access you might have to any vaults belonging to Hadriana. This means I’m going to have to plan another trip to London and Gringotts on my own.

“Well if it’s not too much trouble, I won’t say no.”

“Good! Hagrid’s been excited to meet Hadriana and I’m sure you’ll find him a delightful guide.”

We say our farewells and I shake each of their hands as they leave. Snape’s though. Snape’s is lingering for just a few seconds longer than than the other two and we look into each other’s eyes briefly again. I swear to god the man better not be trying to use Legilimency on me. Can’t think of another reason why he paused though.

I clear my throat. “Well have a lovely day and I’ll see you in September,” I say and shut the door. It’s now me and my clone who disappears with a pop back, magic retreating back into me. “God that man is intense.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I go back into the living room to eat the rest of the sandwiches and drink the leftover tea before I banish the set. I read my question list, glad to know I got some answers. I didn’t get to ask about what Hogwarts did if a student had some kind of mobility issue or how they handled students with a disability like deaf or blindness. Didn’t get to ask the question about familiars. Or if there was a specific dress code manual. I wanted to know that one because I plan on wearing bowties instead of regular ties with my uniform.

Why?

Because bowties are cool. Fezzes are also cool but I don’t plan on switching the my pointy hat for one, despite the fact I’d rather not wear a pointy hat at all.

So… shopping with Hagrid. That should be an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You do not know how much I struggled with this god forsaken meeting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid's here to escort us to the Magical World. But why do I feel like this is not going to end well?

So…

Shopping with Hagrid.

Oh boy.

I chose this round of double up to be the child since I didn’t know how well it would go if I had the clone posing as Hadriana to acquire the wand. I don’t know how well I’ll respond to using a wand anyhow. A wand is basically a focus for a witch/wizard and I’ve been doing this without one for years. I might occasionally use a finger if I’m playing around but ninety-five percent of what I do is wandless/wordless.

Ollivander's should be interesting.

Plus if the books have any part in my life, I’ll be meeting a certain young Malfoy in Madame Malkins. Won’t that be a fun first impression? I get to see and experience Draco Malfoy’s indoctrinated spewage first hand! I mean it could go differently than canon. And if I don’t meet him until we get Hogwarts like they do in the films, well…

Let’s hope I don’t lose my shit like I did the last time watched the films while alive. I do not believe it would go well if I suddenly burst out into peals of giggles while I point out character flaws. That would just be a lovely time of people wondering if I'm crazy. Which I think I probably am given this whole situation. Although I don't know if Blood Adoption is a thing in this world so I don't know if on top of everything else I might have inherited a touch of the Black Madness.

I haven't seen Hagrid in person since he went and took Hadriana (and by extension me) to Dumbledore in Surrey all those years ago. She was sleeping the entire time in the ignorant, innocent, blissful sleep of an infant while I could only stand to the side in my incorporeal form and watch. I watched him cry as he kissed her little face. I don't blame him for the lack of warming charm though. Hagrid's not the most skilled in magic but the man is a huge walking heater so Hadriana wouldn't have been cold all tucked against him protectively.

I don't doubt Hagrid's affection for Hadriana. I know the half-giant's heart is in the right place. He's just not very bright when it comes to making sensible choices. Well maybe this world he shows a bit more wisdom.

Yes and the Tumblr scenario about the Weasely twins being sorted into Slytherin or better yet two different houses and ultimately confounding everyone by skillfully switch out all four house ties in one of the greatest identity pranks Hogwarts will have ever seen will happen.

“That would be fascinating to watch and horrifying to be a part of at the same time,” I said out loud. The clone besides me nodded in agreement and checks the clock for the fourth time. “I miss the internet at times like these,” it stated. “About 10 years too early for Red versus Blue and almost 20 for the Youtube let's play crowd.”

I scrunch my face up at that. “It can't be that long for the Youtube crowd could it? And it couldn't be 10 years for Red versus Blue and Rooster Teeth! Had to have been a bit longer for them.”

I tried to think on my past life, the future bits of events and entertainment and the like. What I remembered. It got hard sometimes – my Harry Potter knowledge is crystal clear and right in the forefront of my memories but some of the other stuff liked to slip away in the back recesses to hibernate it seemed.

It was one of the reasons when I got my freedom after taking over Hadriana's body to do whatever I wanted, I made sure I charmed my music stations to play all the music I could recall. And I knew a lot of music. I didn't want to lose it. And it was surprisingly easy enough to do. Thank you omnipotent powers.

Entire videos I used to watch and many of my favorite movies however were a challenge. If only for the fact I don't want to bring in tech I recall from the future just for the purposes of ensuring I can safely store all my video media. I haven't quite entered the “fuck everything, I'll do what I want,” mind set.

Most the content I indulged in had been on Youtube back in my old life. It's likely the muggle world will have Youtube. I think. I hope. But will my favorite Youtubers from then be here in this world? Will I be able to do come of the muggle activities I loved then as I grow up here?

“I just hope we survive the 90s,” my clone sighs. “At least we got the good cartoons. And our last life was born in the same time frame of Harry Potter's life so we can spot the differences enough.”

I nodded. It's true. Past self had been born in 1980, but in October instead of July.

Now I'm thinking about age difference and nuances.

Can I claim that mental maturity and lifetime experience from my past life and let it go towards if I do put on my big girl panties and attempt to romance Snape? If I want to get involved with anyone from my school (Draco, Neville, Fred Weasely), will that make me a pedophile since I'm still in the complete mind-set and knowledge level of my 45 year old self?

These are the questions while will haunt me.

“You keep those kinds of thoughts going, we're going to die alone and a virgin again,” my clone chastises me.

“Oh please,” I scoff. “More likely I'll be killed off by Voldemort or someone in his service because I did something stupid! Speaking of stupid: what are the odds we're gonna witness Hagrid getting the Philosopher's Stone today? Because I'm tempted to write Quirrel a note saying, 'Are you sure it's the real thing?' and hiding it in his pocket just as we part ways. And then during the school year write things like, 'Is it garlic because your body is rotting away due to the possession?' 'You've got less soul than a ginger.' 'Was it worth making a horcrux so many times just to become crazy and make questionable life choices?'”

“This conversation feels a lot less weird when it's you talking to a clone.”

“That's because it can be classified as a legitimate conversation instead of a mental one which is often frowned upon by polite society due to the fact it's technically not me answering my own questions and remarks out loud. I'm speaking to someone else. Who just happens to be a magically manifested clone that will disappear back into the ether, the gained experience by said being absorbed into me after its gone.”

I don't know if that made any sense or not because that was the time Hagrid came knocking on the door.

The first thought through my head as I'm staring at him?

Hagrid is very tol boi.

Like I don't think I could have him walk around in my house without sort of crouching while he's inside. He'd have to like stoop and go through the door way while turned to the side if he were to come in. Slightly disappointing to know I'll have to transmogrify the building in case he or someone of similar stature comes a calling. I mean I knew he was big, but I didn't know my ceilings were that low.

He introduces himself and Daniella introduces herself and me.

“Sorry I can't come in,” he apologized. “Would have been nice to have a sit down after that journey.”

“There'll be some seats on the train,” Daniella offers helpfully. “I don't think you'll get much rest if we went on the Knight Bus. Unless we plan on apparating?”

“Naw, get all shaken and jerked about if we take that,” he agreed. “And I don't have me license for apparation. Oh! Got something for you though, Hardiana! Baked it meself! Words and all!”

I (Hadriana) am handed a slightly heavy box holding the birthday cake that looks exactly like it did in the film and I smile up at him. It really is a sweet gesture and we should be able to eat it when we stop for lunch. It's definitely been a little squished but nothing rendering it inedible.

I give him my thanks and we head off.

~ * ~ * ~

 

The ride isn't much different than the one in the book. Hagrid still points out all sorts of things in marvel of muggle tech, grumbles about muggle money, (apparently he was given plenty to pay for both Daniella, I, and himself to take the train which honestly surprised me), and he started knitting when we were comfortably situated. I as Hadriana pulled out a Game Boy which I had obtained because fuck it if I'm giving up my previous life as a gamer and not having one! I switched out the Tetris cartidge for Super Mario Land. Hagrid looked over at me curiously, eyes widening slightly as the musical notes played from the device in my hands. “Cor blimey, Haddie! What's that?!” he asked in awe, his knitting apparently forgotten.

“Game Boy. Muggle gaming device from Japan. They came out about 2 years ago overseas and just recently became available here in the UK,” I explain as I lower the volume control so it doesn't bother the other passengers. “You won't see to many of them among the muggle world right now but as the years go by they'll grow in popularity.”

“And what's it do? You said gaming? How's it work?”

I try and use my words but to be honest, even now I still don't really know how to explain it all. Technical terms have never been my strong suit. “I'm not an expert or anyone who knows how it was made but they create different games and put them on cartridges like these,” I held up Tetris, “and the Game Boy reads the data contained on them it and then translates it, letting you play it. This is just a portable version of a gaming console.”

Hagrid looks both amazed and horrendously confused. “What'sa gaming console?”

“It's basically a specially made box that contains a lot of electronic components that read much larger versions of those cartridges that you can play even more superior games on. You attach it to a muggle television,” Daniella explained. “Have you ever visited an arcade, Hagrid?”

 

He shook his head. “Naw, I don't get out much among the muggle folk,” he confessed. “Tend to draw a lot of looks. And Hogwarts keeps me busy.”

“So are you normally part of the group of staff who take muggle-born and raised students to Diagon Alley?” I ask casually.

Hagrid smiled, puffing up a bit proudly. “Naw! This 'ere's a special exception,” he stated with a smile. “Normally you'd get one of the teachers to do it, but Dumbledore thought you'd need a special escort given who you are. Everyone's going to be so excited when they see you after being secluded off all these years!”

“I imagine you were pretty surprised finding out Haddie wasn't where you'd left her all those years ago when Dumbledore asked you to come show us about,” Daniella said.

“A bit, yeah.” Hagrid's tone was... off on that answer. Suspicious and guarded. Like he suddenly was facing someone he was warned not to trust and to handle with care. Interesting. I wonder what Dumbledick said to him. He turned his attention back to his knitting.

I'm torn between letting the silence hang or using my Hadriana persona to keep the dialogue going. Hagrid seems far more open and friendly with my child self as he was meant to be. I need info though and so...

“Have you been groundskeeper for a long time at Hogwarts, Hagrid?” I ask.

“Aye. Been there for decades. Was there when your parents attended. Good people, they were. Yer father loved playing pranks with his friends and your mother was always helping out! You've got her eyes, you know? Shame what happened to them. They were good people. True Gryffindors, they were. Course you'll be going to Gryffindor, if your anything like them! Potters are always Gryffindors.”

Yes, I'm quite aware of the pranks my father and his friends played back in his school days if canon stays true. Not like I'll let Hagrid know this. And here we go, already starting with attempts to push me towards the House of Lions and we've just started the journey.

“I didn't attend Hogwarts,” Daniella began. “And we didn't get much of an explanation about it during the meting with Dumbledore, Professor MacGonagall, and Professor Snape.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Hagrid corrected in an almost automatic voice. “You always gotta be sure to call him Headmaster Dumbledore. You have to show him proper respect.”

Hello, warning bells. Nice to have you go off.

“Right,” Daniella replied slowly. “Well Headmaster Dumbledore didn't really give us much of an overview of it except the general bits, didn't really discuss the houses.”

“Didn't need to if Hadriana's like her folks,” the half giant stated. He was back to being guarded and on edge. “Potters are brave folk. Good wizards. You'd never find a bad wizard in there. Not like Slytherin house. Nothing but dark wizards in that one.”

For fucks sake.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did research about Game Boys before I wrote this because that train ride was guestimated to be at least 2 hours from Cokeworth to London and I needed more than crochet to pass the time.  
> Red versus Blue is one of the greatest machinema series ever created and I will fight you on that. Here's the link for Season One: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2vBnPCQT4WL1hmcoq8EOTO-kx6kZPTsi  
> I suck at descriptions and so does this MC when it comes to how things work.  
> No fics referenced this chapter but more will be. And I'll be linking them and telling their names when it happens.  
> I'm just so happy I finally got writing done.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to delete and the give a new chapter 6. I feel like I took off a limb deleting the original notification chapter. But it was honestly just an update and I shouldn't feel bad about deleting it.

After what might have been the most awkward train ride I've ever experienced (and that crosses all the incarnations I can remember), we finally reach London and from there we go to Charing Cross Road. As we're making our way, I honestly start to wonder what other places there are that is specifically for Wizards and Witches here in England. In canon, England only had Carkitt Markett, Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, and Horizant Alley. I remember tons of places from fanfics where people worked to help expand the world, but there weren't many places in canon.

I still say Horizant Alley sounds like it should have essentially been the Red Light district where all the fun adult stores, brothels, etc. Get it? Because you know horizontal mambo?

…

Geez it's lonely in here sometimes.

“Hagrid?” He looks at me (Hadriana). “Are there many other areas for Wizards to go shopping and the like hidden from non-magicals?”

“Don't really wander about much outside Hogwarts,” he said. He'd paused to think for a few moments. “But the four main ones I know of is Carkitt Market which you saw the sign for while we were leaving the station. Diagon Alley, where we're headed to pick up your supplies. Horizant Alley, where ye can find similar businesses to the ones on Diagon plus a few others. And then there's Knockturn.”

“I remember reading about that place,” Daniella comments. “It's where you'll find more of the shadier businesses, yes?”

“Haddy won't be going anywhere close to that place,” Hagrid snapped. “Only Dark Wizards go there! The most unsavory of folks and items are there! You won't be taking her!”

Both Daniella and I stopped walking and just stared at the half giant. Okay, hold on. Nobody said jack shit about me going there. We were just discussing the different alleyways. And second of all: no matter how much I liked Hagrid in canon, he is NOT going to yell at me or my “guardian” or dictate where we're going to go!

Hagrid stopped a couple steps after we did, looking back. He saw our expressions which given how I was feeling were probably the same one. It's not hard for me to forget that since “Daniella” is very much me just in an adult form, we're going to react the same way. It's probably really disconcerting to see the same expression just on different aged faces.

Which now that I think about it... Are people going to pick up on this? That Daniella looks a whole hell of a lot like Hadriana? The only thing the clone doesn't have is the lichen-burgh scar which isn't even strikingly visible any more after the whole I had to regrow my body after I took over when Hadriana died at six years old.

I did cover that right? The whole Hadriana Potter is actually dead and I'm just basically living in her body? I did tell you guys that, right?

Wait, who am I talking to?!

Focus on Hagrid, bitch!

“I shouldn't a said that,” he said shaking his head and looking upset. “I should not have said that, should I?”

“No, you shouldn't have,” Daniella stated, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Take it away, my clone!

Taking my hand (because lord knows I'll need the grounding), Daneilla walks with me until she is face to well chest to Hagrid. She then crooks her finger at him to lean forward. He does, his expression wary.

“When we stop for lunch, _we_ are going to have a nice little chat about what _exactly_ Headmaster Dumbledore told you about me and why _you_ , Rubeus Hagrid, are treating me like I'm a threat to the girl I've been taking care of and protecting for the last five years while no one including the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore gave a damn check in on her.”

I am glad to say I (Daniella) looked actually rather scary as I watched her handle Hagrid. I always thought if I were to act like I just did to the towering half giant, I would look absolutely ridiculous to anyone watching. But I didn't. I actually looked... really cool!

Wait. If she's the clone but not the controlling personality, does it really count as me looking cool?

Oh goodie.

Now I'm having an existential crisis and feeling kind of depressed at how I just did something very bad ass but it wasn't me at the same time.

The very subdued “Yes ma'am,” Hagrid gave in response to Daniella didn't really do anything to help my feelings, although the words she whispered to me, “Remember you get to see it and experience this from my perspective after we get home” did help off set the cloud. I wonder how much anxiety was coursing through her while she was doing that?

We made it to the Leaky but no one in our trio was talking anymore. Hagrid had the air of a kicked puppy until we crossed the threshold. It seems the pleasant atmosphere of the pub was enough to boost his spirits back up. I kind of wanted to linger out in front so I could take a look of the building. Just take in the sight of it. I suppose I'd have to come back and do it another time. Maybe I could even figure out what books they were selling at that bookshop next to the LC.

The Leaky Cauldron was amazing in the inside and I know both me and Daniella were looking all around the place. In my past life, I wasn't ever in a good place so when they opened the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, I never got to go. I just ended up immersing myself in pictures and photos and menus listings.

Yeah. That's right. I stalked the menus. I stalked a lot of stuff involving Harry Potter as the years went on before I died. Don't judge me.

The real (and I still can't believe it's real!) Leaky Cauldron is just as quaint inside as it was in the films. It looks spot on the same right down to the chipped and worn stone work in the ceilings and dim lighting. And I'm just a little nervous because although the cracks in the walls give it character, that grown up part of my brain (which is hilarious because I am quite literally an eleven year old child) keeps screaming, “Foundation issues! Foundation issues! We need a construction crew in here before everyone dies because the building fell down on us!”

I'm pulled out of my musings by someone calling out to Hagrid. I recognize who it's supposed to be when he asks Hagrid if we wants the usual. But when I look in the voice's direction I'm stunned. That... is not the man who played Tom of the Leaky Cauldron in any of the films.

That looks suspiciously like Graham Crowden, a man who played a very different Tom from a very different British series I personally adored called Waiting for God.

What the fudgecrackers is going on?!

I'd noted how everyone looked mostly like their movie counterparts but they were basically the same. This is all new casting right here!

Brain is not taking the sudden change well and it does not help when Hagrid responds with, “Can't today, Tom! I'm on Hogwarts business.”

Well at least he didn't say my name.

He gently rubs my head instead of patting my shoulder but I swear (and I have no idea why I am suddenly suspicious that he has done this on purpose since he seems very much the same as he was in the books minus the whole incident on the street earlier and the mistrusting of Daniella) but his actions brush my bangs so that you could catch a glimpse of my very pale scar. Although how anyone could see it given the low lighting of the pub is beyond me . Maybe it's all a set up? But that would mean Hagrid would be in on it. I mean it's possible he could be but... my canon and the majority of fanon instincts are saying it's impossible while that don't trust anything part is screaming this is all part of a plot.

Which is not good for one's tummy or nerves in case you wanted to know.

Also I'm really confused that Hadriana is the Girl-Who-Lived. And that is so publicly known she survived. I mean obviously she is and she did but I would have thought the prophecy would have remained stating it would be a boy. I honestly don't know what this universe's version of it was. I also don't know if it was a legitimate prophecy either.

Come to think of it, there's a whole lot I don't know and I'm woefully ignorant. But I refuse to accept the blame for that! This is very different from any other life I was born into. First off -

“Doris Crockford, Miss Potter! It's a pleasure to meet you at last!”

Oh right. People want to meet me and shake my hand.

Oh god help me!

I put on my best smile and shake hands with a bunch of witches and wizards who tell me their names. Names which I probably will not remember by the end of the day unless they resonate with that Harry Potter encyclopedia I've somehow managed to retain in my brain.

Oh joy! Here's Professor Quirrell. The man with the horribly put on stutter that's essentially mocking people with a legitimate speech impediment. At least he looks the same as he did in the movies. Has a little bit of darkening under the eyes but that might be shadows from the poor lighting.

I'm gonna have fun with him.

“It' a pleasure to meet you, Proffessor Quirrel,” I tell him and he shakes my hand. Definitely not possessed yet. “Your turban is very lovely!”

“Th-thank you, M-Miss P-Potter,” he stated and for a moment he actually looked pleased with my compliment. “I-it twas a g-gift from an African Prince. D-dealt with a p-par-particularly unpleasant vampire! B-but it's nothing compared to your when you d-de-defeated You- Know-Who!”

“Oh you mean the Dark Man! My guardian talked to me all about him!”

That seemed to set him and several other eavesdroppers curiosity ablaze. “D-Di-Did they now?”

“Yes. I did,” said Daniella and suddenly the entire room seemed to realize she was there. She took my by the hand while casting a pleasant smile on Quirrell. “Haddy tends to get confused about how she as an infant was able to defeat someone even Albus Dumbledore wasn't able to put in his place. Tell me, Professor, in your line of work as a person who aims to teach about defending oneself against the Dark Arts and is very well traveled in order to research, have you ever come across anything similar?”

“I haven't y-yet,” he stuttered. “Although I'm sure there are o-other accounts undiscovered.”

“It's very true. The world is a large place,” Daniella agreed. “You never know what lies buried waiting to be found. Or what shades of the past linger for us to speak with.” She turned to look at me. “Ready to go, Haddy? Those school supplies aren't going to buy themselves and I'm going to be very hungry soon!”

“Yes, please!” I reply. I would be very glad to get out of everyone's notice. Especially since a few are sending very unhappy looks towards my clone. I actually wanted to know what the supposed title of the book he had been there to get (trying to see if that was his excuse) but the conversation had strayed off script so that wasn't happening. “Good bye, Professor Quirrell! I hope you manage to get whatever you're looking for before it's gone!”

We head towards the back and I wonder if I gave a few too many hints for Quirrell to be suspicious of us. Either way, it's interesting to put to rest my theory (or at least I hope it's put to rest) that Quirrrell at least in this universe hadn't been possessed yet. Otherwise I'm sure him shaking my hand would have set off the blood protections from Lily's sacrifice when he took my hand. Although now that I think about it... shit. I have no idea if those protections actually are still around since the real Hadriana was killed and I took over her broken body. I guess the theory isn't so solved after all.

Oh man.... I'm gonna have to touch him somehow or wait until the final confrontation in the Chamber of Erised.

Ducking Christmas on a shoopuff cracker!

“Tweren't a nice thing back there,” Hagrid stated, his irritation from earlier back. “Makin' it seem like what Hadriana had done weren't special.”

“The only reason Haddy is alive is because Lily Potter enacted a special protection spell using the complete sacrifice of her life force and magic which activated when Voldemort, “Hagrid flinched” killed her. The fact that everyone is claiming it was Haddy's intentional actions on slaying the latest Dark Lord to have appeared on British soil says something very detrimental on the thinking abilities of the populace.”

Hagrid's beard was bristling and it looked like he was in some small way torn with what he was hearing. But the aggravation was still too great to let him accept that I (or in this case Daniella) was right. I needed to get him focused back on the trip at hand. “Can we not fight right now? I wanna get some shopping done and eat lunch! That birthday cake is haunting me.”

Apparently child-me had some magical sway with him because his dark mood lightened considerably. “Right sorry, Hadriana! Stand back!”

Three up, two across and tap 3 times. So we're entering via book method and not the rhythmic sequence of the movies. Good to know.

As the wall parts and the entry way shows itself, Hagrid utters those precious words:

“Welcome to Diagon Alley.”

It takes every thing I have within me to not squeal in excitement.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid's devotion to Dumbledore is getting disturbing and old real quick. Dumbledore's meddling even when he's not near. Also I think the Goblins have some kind of thing for my clone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 3000 words. I can barely find my self able to top out at 2000 sometimes and I got 3000 today.  
> Also do not get mad at the ending of this chapter. The chapter told me it wanted to end where it did. You do not argue with your muse.

Diagon Alley is... my vocabulary apparently can't find the words to describe it. But there are so many words.

And it's real.

It's so so real and I'm here in it. Never got to even visit the theme park recreation in my last life. Only had the movies and pictures and YouTube videos to immerse myself in.

Saying it's magical is so giggle inducing cliched a term for it. There are so many people that if I wasn't so enamoured at being here, in the real Diagon Alley, I would be fighting a anxiety attack. I clutch Daniella's hand just a bit tighter, the support it gives me even though it's my fucking clone helping me stay grounded.

Each store-front is real and doorways lead into real shops and not just select facsimiles that pretend to be true.

Hagrid being so massive helps navigation so much because it's damn near impossible to lose him in the throng. I hear Daniella utter, “This is amazing!” and I nod. It's beautiful and real and alien and a dream come true. Hagrid's pointing out all the different places and I recognize many of them. I make a vow right then I will visit every damn shop and a kiosk I can no matter if I have to keep coming back to London every day until school begins.

Gringotts is as beautifully looming and lopsided as it had been in the movies and models. White stone dominates the building, a visible difference compared to the much darker coloured spaces close it it. I take a minute to admire it before I imagine a dragon roosting on top of it, eyeing the people below and every so often letting out a puff of flame and smoke. The guardian of the Wizarding financial world.

Of course this reminds me of a dragon trapped miles below the ground at our feet. Chained and alone.

A fission of anger creeps in over the awe and wonder I was feeling mere moments ago.

“Come on, you two,” Hagrid calls, knocking me out of my musings. “We've got important business and lots to do before the day is done!”

Right. Let's do this.

The goblins look every bit of their movie selves though I try hard not to stare at them since that's really rude. I swear something in me is telling me those sharp eyes of theirs are lingering on Daniella; the same voice that swore Hagrid had purposefully brushed my bangs aside to show the white skin of my scar. But that seems so weird. Why would they be looking at her? Okay so she's not dressed like any of the other witches around her looking more muggle in attire than witch. But it shouldn't cause them to watch her like she's done something. I file it away, hoping nothing comes of it.

We get to a free goblin and Hagrid tells him we're here to get money from my safe. The goblin leans over the counter and looks down at me. The sharp eyes take in the sight of me like he's making some kind of preliminary observance for a report. “Ah, Miss Potter, is it? Interesting.”

Okay that is new.

“And does the young Lady in question have her key?”

I'm about to reply when of course Hagrid says he does, rummaging through his coat pockets looking for the item in question. All three of us (Daniella, me, and the goblin teller) are staring at him with the same expression though the goblin looks really mad. I honestly don't think that's the normal surly look they wear. He genuinely looks unhappy. Luckily Hagrid isn't depositing moldy dog biscuits and other things on the desk as he searches. He finds it and presents it to the goblin, the golden key looking ridiculously small compared to the massive size of Hagrid's hand. The teller looks it over and nods before accepting it.

I have a feeling I'm not getting that key back even though it's technically mine and feel another hit of irritation hit me.

Hagrid for some reason, even though he doesn't trust Daniella, and this is a major security risk, decides to still deal with the whole letter given to him by Dumbledore involving what I can only assume to be the retrieval of the Philosopher's Stone in full view of both me and my clone. Did Dumbledore just tell him to ignore the potential risk of an unknown witness and get it done? I don't like this because I know how it felt to me back in my old life. Sowing the seeds of a plan and set up. Doing something secretive in front of a no doubt curious child who would remember this happening when later events occur.

I don't like it.

I don't like it at all.

The cart ride was fun though. Like an amazing roller-coaster trip through the underground. There's several beautiful underground cave systems back in the states but the only one I ever got to visit was called Ruby Falls. There were also a couple of handful of video game crafted cavern areas I got to traipse around in. This trip on the goblin carts was very much like coasting through all those places, the sight of the rocks and the wind whipping over my face was so thrilling! I'm glad my glasses didn't fall off.

They're actually fake lenses but I like how I look with them. And who am I to screw with an iconic look even if Harry Potter is female? Plus they act a bit like protective goggles in situations like this.

We slow down to a stop and Griphook calls out, “Vault 687, Potter Trust Vault.”

There's apparently screeching tires in my brain as I comprehend what I just heard and I look over at Daniella to confirm I wasn't alone with what I heard. She looked at me wide-eyed and nodded.

So I guess we can claim fanon confirmed.

But this raises other questions. When/can I access the actual Potter vaults? Are they even still able to be accessed?! Why and how did Dumbledore have the key that only gave me entrance to the trust vault? Why did the goblins even let him have my key in the first place instead of putting all my vaults... okay sorry, Hadriana's vaults on lock-down until she came to the bank?

Once again my brain is screaming conspiracies and my trip into this world is being ruined by my very adult mind's desire to question everything. I swear it wasn't this bad in my last life. I also keep freaking saying mine/me/I when it involved specific Hadriana things. I keep forgetting I'm not her. I've possessed her formerly very dead body and regrew it until it was perfect again. Poor girl's soul is gone off into the ether hopefully with her parents.

I'm just a freaking squatter in a body not mine.

Hello, Depression, my old friend. So nice to see your face again.

Hagrid of course takes my silent stares as awe at the sight of the wizarding coins in front of me. “James and Lily left you a right and proper nest egg,” he said proudly. Why was he so proud? “That should be more than enough to get you settled throughout school indeed! Maybe yer whole life if you spend it wisely.”

“Given the fact this is the trust vault and not the actual family vault, Hagrid, I think your statement is really undermining the situation.”

He looked at Daniella, suspicion clear on his face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Hagrid, this is the _trust vault._ It's set up to pay for Hadriana's upkeep and bills through her childhood until she either reaches the age of majority or she fulfills the requirements for what ever was put in place to access the actual Potter vault. All this is just deposited from the main vaults until that time. Is that about right, Ser Griphook?”

The goblin nodded, looking rather pleased. “That's the bare bones of it, Miss.”

Hagrid puffed out his cheeks in irritation. “But Proffessor Dumbledore said I was s'posed to take you to the vault! He gave me the key! 'E never said nothin' about a trust vault!”

“Why did he have my key anyways?” I ask Hagrid. “He didn't say a word about it during our meeting or mention I would even need it. And Daniella told him she'd never been here so if he'd given it to me then we still wouldn't have come here without you to guide us.”

“Headmaster was just trying to keep it safe, I expect,” the half-giant replied to which Daniella shot him a look. “That would mean either Hadriana wasn't to be trusted with her own money or he just completely ignored the statement neither I nor Haddy had been here before now. Which one are you going with?”

Hagrid's getting angry again. And one look at Griphook looks like he's torn between irritation we're wasting his time and enjoying the fact he's watching two people argue. I wonder if the Goblins in this universe are filled with delight at listening to someone quote unquote badmouth Dumbledore and question him so openly.

Better diffuse the situation.

“Do we have a bag or pouch or something I can put my money in?”

Griphook entered the vault with me and turned to the wall where there were a total of three little bags with different cloth designs hanging up on some hooks. “Most trust vaults have pouches ready to use near the door. Standard procedure, Miss. They're twice as big on the inside but you shouldn't need to fill them completely.”

“Well that's helpful and convenient. Thank you, Ser Griphook.”

He nodded as I grab one of the bags, purple with a soft iridescent shine, a gold looking rope and clasp fastening finishing it off. It's absolutely beautiful and I love it. “Pouches are charmed with an anti-theft spell so if it gets stolen it will be sent back to the vault and our people will be notified,” Griphook explains as I look at my new little purse. I look at him and smile. “Brilliant! Even if the thief gets away with my money, I'd hate to lose such a beautiful keepsake!”

“Is that real gold?” Daniella asks as I show it to her from the doorway. Griphook eyes it for a second. “I believe the rope strap is spun gold fibers but the closing mechanism is goblin silver reflecting the light from the rope, Ma'am.”

HOLY SHIT!

“I don't know if I should take this,” I declare looking at Griphook. “Goblin silver is... it's precious, isn't it? This would make if incredible special and had to have been crafted by some of the most amazing metal workers! I can't wear something that precious for an everyday task like shopping!”

“Blimey, Hadriana, you don't need to get so wound up over it. I'm sure the goblins don't mind! It's a real pretty pocketbook but I'm sure yer just being silly.”

“I don't know. Am I being silly, Ser Griphook?”

The goblin looks at the pouch, than at me. His eyes stare at me sharply; a likelihood he's accessing me. “The pouches are all designed and crafted when a family opens a trust vault from the main vault. The Goblins involved use our special silver as part of the process. It's our way of blessing the new event. I don't think you're being silly, Miss Potter. I'm sure my superiors would find it entertaining to know a young wix actually grasped how important the use of our silver in such an ordinary bag is.”

“Well as long as I made someone smile, I guess,” I declare before turning around and starting to put money in the bag. I suddenly find myself wishing I had something like a bank card or a money slip that worked like cheques that connected to my vault so I wouldn't have to lug all this around. Or spend time counting it to make sure I have enough in my bag.

“Daniella, can you help me count?”

My clone nods and enters the vault. “What amount are we going for?” she asks me.

“I don't know if we'll get the key after this so I'm guessing 250, 100, 100?”

“Will it fit that much?”

I scrunch my face up in concern. “Get the galleons first then go from there?”

“Okay.”

It takes a bit of time but we manage to get a nice bit of coins for shopping. I wish I had a bag connected to hammer space or like Mary Poppins bag in miniature form. Would make everything far more simple. I'm pretty sure I can make one, I'm not really worried about that. I just would like to see what they have on the market and how much the cost would be before I start a project.

Griphook tries to hand me my vault key after the door locks behind us when we're finished but Hagrid takes it. “Hagrid, shouldn't I be getting that? I mean, it's my key.”

“Perfessor Dumbledore made me swear I'd give it back to him when we were done today. Sorry, Hadriana. But I'm sure he'll give it to you when you get to Hogwarts! He's probably just wanting to make sure it's safe and sound.”

Oh I am not happy and Hagrid picks up on that. “Don't be like that,” he says pleadingly. “It's nothing bad! He's just looking out for you is all! Albus Dumbledore is a fine man and he wouldn't do anything without there being good reason.”

I want to freaking throw a fit right now but instead I just stomp back to the cart with Daniella behind me and cross my arms in front of my chest. That old bastard isn't staying in control of anything of mine for much longer. I don't care what I have to do to but this shit isn't going to continue for long.

We sail down the caverns again to Vault 713. Hagrid looks like he's going to be sick by the end of all this and I'm praying he doesn't vomit. This is a man who would not do well at an amusement park which is a pity because I would have liked to take him to one sometime. Just for the experience. Actually there's several people in this universe I'd love to take to an amusement park. Mister Weasely is at the top of that list.

We coast to a stop in front of 713 and we stand back a little ways as Griphook ran his long finger in front of the door, the telltale sound of metal locks unfastening and then the door (unlike in the movie but just as it did in the book) essentially melted away with a hiss and green smoke. “If anyone else tried to unlock this, they'd be sucked into the door and trapped inside it,” Griphook explained.

“Bravo to Goblin ingenuity,” Daniella complimented. “Would they live in perpetual agony until someone came to check? Or would the process kill them?”

“They'd be in a state between life and death until extraction,” Griphook replied. “Pain beyond words and death would be preferable should they live after their... rescue.”

So there goes the imaginings of the person essentially ending up looking like Han Solo trapped in carbonite at the end of Empire Strikes Back. No, it's more than like some kind of horrific parody of that bit from Jojo's Bizarre Adventure where the Pillar Men were on display and that one dude got sucked inside it and eaten.

I had a very well rounded media consumption in my past life. Except for horror films. I did not like horror films. I still do not like horror films. I like horror games. Mostly. Fatal Frame is a freaking awesome series and the ghosts are fucking terrifying. Never play that series in the dark. Unless you have a cheat device, then go for it.

Why am I giving advice to invisible people again?

I watch Hagrid gather the Philosopher's Stone in it's plain unassuming packaging and store it in one of the inner pockets of his jacket. “Best not to mention this to anyone, okay, Hadriana?” he says to me quietly while casting a suspicious glance towards Daniella. She stares right back at him and I'm starting to realize I'm not very fond of Hagrid. He keeps giving my adult self bad looks and treating her like she's done something horrible. And then there's the blatant mindlessness that comes with worshipping the ground Dumbledore walks on. Never questioning.

“Neither I nor Hadriana have any interest in whatever it was Headmaster Dumbledore sent you to collect from this vault, Hagrid,” she assure him, that really cold smile returning to the forefront. “I just hope he knows what he's doing and it doesn't end up putting the children in danger. Now let's get out of here before too much time flies by and we skip lunch and head straight to dinner.”

She takes my hand and we all get back into the cart. The ride back is very tense despite the roller coaster inducing feels and we enter the Main Hall of the bank.

A goblin I don't know approaches us and hands Daniella an envelope. “Message for you Miss,” he says before walking off. Daniella looks at the cream coloured envelope with gold filigree around the edges in surprise. What in the hell-o? She begins to open it as I open my mouth but Hagrid beats me to asking the question.

“What's that?”

Daniella shoots him a frosty glare, halting her actions. “None of your business,” she states. “Nor is it Dumbledore's. Not that that seems to make difference.” That last bit is muttered under her breath and she looks at me, stuffing the envelope in her bag. “You ready to go do your first time Wizarding world shopping?”

“Yup! Let's go!” I hold my hand out and she takes it. As we leave the bank, Hagrid excuses himself from us promising he'll be back in a bit. The nausea from the cart ride finally hit him in full force and much like in the books he needs a pick me up to settle himself. We part ways and I head over to the first place on my list.

A sudden sense of foreboding and nervousness hits me as I stand in front of Madame Malkin's. This is it. This is where I'm gonna have my first meeting with Draco Malfoy.

“We can do this,” Daniella says although I can barely hear her over the blood pounding in my ears. I feel her hands on my shoulders. “If we can get through our meeting with Severus Snape, we can handle an eleven year old Draco Malfoy.”

“And besides, I didn't think he was cute until I got older and read fanfiction,” I add. “I can do this.”

I can do this.

I can do this.

…

Maybe Flourish and Blotts first?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not like I expect them to be.

I would love to claim we did turn around and go to Flourish and Blotts. Or we made our way to the place I actually should head to first Carkitt Market to the place they sell trunks and bags. Or I grew a backbone, took a deep breath, and then entered Madame Malkin's and had the dreaded first conversation with Draco Malfoy.

None of those things happened.

As we were standing there in all our nervous glory, the Malfoy family exited the shop. The door magically opened on it's own (because it would be far too mundane to open the door physically) and out they came. They looked a lot less... menacing than I thought they would.

Once again almost the exact same appearance as their movie versions, just a few differences but they're pretty much the movie adaptions.

Which means Lucius Malfoy as played by Jason Issacs is giving off some seriously sexy Goblin King Jareth vibes.

I'm just glad me and my clone stepped out of the way so we didn't block the doorway as they were coming out. That would have been awkward. We're not exactly dressed like the standard wizarding folk around here and my canon/fanon mind is primed and set to be sneered and looked down at.

Another thing that doesn't happen.

In fact after his family cleared the shop's entryway, it looked like he was keeping the door open for us to go through. Not intending to linger under his gaze for long, we quickly said thank you and went inside. The door closed behind us and thus that was the entirety of our first interactions with the family of Malfoy.

Pretty much absolutely none.

You can imagine how disappointed I am with that. Sure I was nervous AF but still, I did want to try and talk with Draco. Get a feel for him, as it were. Although being a girl would have probably changed quite a lot of the book canon's first dialogue. Who knows how Draco would converse with a girl instead of a boy.

The woman who I assume is Madame Malkin (because I don't ever recall seeing her in the films but we did get a decent description in the first book) greets us. “Hogwarts, dear?” she asks. I nod.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Get up on the stool and we'll get you fitted,” she instructed, taking the tape measure that had been hanging from around her neck into her hands. Parchment and quill hovered in the air around her, ready to take any notes she needed while she measured me. “We'll be done in no time,” she assured me.

I nod. “Is our uniform really just 3 work robes, a pointy hat, some dragonhide gloves, and a winter cloak?” I ask her after she slips one of the fitting robes over my head.

“Muggle born?”

I shake my head. “My parents died in the last war and I've been raised away from the magical world since then,” I explained. “Muggle school uniforms have a lot more required items.”

“Many of the non-magicals who enter my shop have said similar things over the years,” Madame Malkin says pinning my hem. “It's only been within the last ten years the uniform has been whittled down to something so small. It used to have a lot more items on the list but changes were made – possibly to help aide the poorer or scholarship students. Not that it helps my business any.”

“I can imagine,” Daniella agrees. “Looks like you're not going to get to see if you can have bowties instead of regular school ties after all, Squirt.”

“Were you two interested in a more standard school uniform?”

I nod. “I was thinking we were going to have to order me a whole bunch of items and I was going to ask if there was an option to get to wear a bow tie instead of the standard kind of tie you normally see on kids! Now I'm stuck taking all my normal clothes.”

“Well don't worry, Dear, I'm sure you two can figure out something,” the woman assured me. We finished up soon after that and paid for my purchases. Part of me wanted to browse what other robes Madame Malkin's had but today was school shopping and not investigate the shops. My lingering disappointment at the lack of standard uniform was shared by my clone since she was basically an extension of me.

“Another lie the movies told us,” Daniella voiced aloud and I nodded. “Even if he's getting on our nerves it would have been nice to see Hagrid show up with an ice cream after that rush of disappointment.”

“Ice cream would be lovely right now,” I agreed, “but let's just get the rest of this shopping done. This is going to be a nightmare to carry without Hagrid helping carry the heavy stuff.”

“Which means we really need to get you a school trunk sooner rather than later.”

“And a nice roomy bag to carry my things in when I go to Hogwarts,” I added. “Or at least I need to see how much one will run.” I'm pretty damn sure I can make my own version of a Bag of Holding which is essentially what Hermione was sporting with that feather light and undetectable extension charmed beaded bag of hers. “How easily do you think we can use our cards to carry our purchases? Because I have a feeling Hagrid isn't going to be much help.”

The cards we're talking about are a nifty little thing I kind of accidentally created one day not too long after I gained my freedom from the Dursleys. Freedom, terrified them all so badly they ran to Australia, whatever. That's not the important part. The important part is can transfer physical items into cards that look like blank trading cards. You know the kind: Magic the Gathering, Baseball Cards, Yu-Gi-Oh... those kinds. Basically the cards act as a pocket storage device with the item in question displayed in a picture and it even comes with a handy rundown of the statistics too! I got the idea from a video game I once played in my past life, Batan Kaitos: Eternal Wings and the Lost Ocean, and the Magnus cards that the characters would use in it. Unlike the game's Magnus cards however, anything I've stored within my cards haven't shown signs of degradation while being held inside.

I've not tried using them to store living things like animals or people but I have been entertaining the idea of sticking Scabbers in one.

Try getting out of there Pettigrew, you traitorous fuck!

That whole plan depends on if this world runs by the same basic canon timeline though so I have to contain my very intense desire to make some characters suffer. Some characters may prove different that portrayed. User discretion is advised.

“If we get too much stuff for us to carry properly and Hagrid doesn't show up by the time we go back to the Leaky for lunch, we trap the items,” I decide. “Until then we'll just be normal.”

Daniella nodded and we headed over to Flourish and Blotts. “Do you still want to pick up some quills and parchment despite it not being on the list?”

“Not unless they have some kind of muggleborns guide to writing with wizarding utensils,” I remark. All those fics and the movies having Harry get parchment and quills and it's not even on the damn list. Actually a lot of things are missing from that damn list and I'm feeling completely underwhelmed with the required items. I thought I was going to have to go by the apothecary shops like Slug & Jiggers to pick up a potion kit but nope.

“I'll still swing by the shops and grab some of the listed ingredients so we can practise before we head to school. There's gotta be a few potions we can brew that are good for beginners. I'll do it after lunch.”

I nod in assent and we head into Flourish and Blotts.

…

…

HOLY SHIT!

This place is huge inside! I guess this is what happens when you don't have to be limited to a revamped Ollivander's shop stage and somebody actually utilizes wizarding space!

Books! Books as far as the eye can see! This place is even grander and massive than the used books, CDs, and movies seller McKays that I used to adore going to in my past life and that place was in a god dammed warehouse!

“This... is... _not_ like the movies,” I utter in awe as we go farther inside the shop. I swear to god I can see a coffee shop/cafe area off in the back with a few sofas and comfy chairs dotting the scene. There's about three total floors of merchandise counting the ground floor. I spot at least two circular stairways near by and there's probably at least another one farther back. This is cool as fuck!

One of the employees calls out welcome and we move towards the front desk. Might as well ask them questions if they can spare the time.

“Welcome to Flourish and Blotts!” the very peppy blonde assistant greets us. “You here for school books?”

“Among other things,” I reply. “I've never been here before so...”

“Well all the course books are arranged on the right wall starting with first year, sorted by author alphabetically. I think we still have a few of the coursebook collections on the shelves so you might be able to grab the stack you need instead of browsing,” the assistant said. “If you have trouble finding a book, you can come back up here and ask for assistance or summon a helper wisp from one of the marked pillars around the shop.” She pointed to what looked like a rune pictured on a the counter. “Books re-shelve themselves after 20 minutes of being left out and if you're planning on getting more than 5 books, we'll set up a bin so you don't have to carry them all to check out. Just let someone know.”

“Oh we're definitely going to need a basket,” I state, my eyes scanning the store. I may not be a bibliophile on the same level as Hermione Granger but I do love me the written word. Hell, the master bedroom down stairs is basically a library for my books. I have a lot of them and damn happy.

Don't tell anyone but some of them aren't supposed to exist in this dimension.

The assistant went ahead and set up me up a bin and after repeating the phrase to make the books go into the bin, it was off to the races we went!

I will not go into detail on everything I found perusing the stock but I did have t least one very interesting thing I discovered while I was browsing: Golderoy Lockhart's books.

Why was this interesting, you may ask? In fanon and canon the man is a fake, liar, possible murderer, and d(epending on the fic you are reading) a paedophile and rapist so nothing about what I could find in regards to his books should have caught my eye.

Accept for the fact that is not Kenneth Branagh on those covers. It's not even a younger version of him or a slightly altered him that you can still say, “That's him. That's Benedict.”

No.

Much to my shock and awe, the man staring at me from the covers of his books is none other than Simon Baker. Or as we Americans will know him, Patrick Jane aka The Mentalist. My brain is screaming at this as it is the second change major change out I've had of faces and mentally I'm at a loss at how to handle this.

'Why him?!' I scream internally as I lose all good judgment and gather one of each of his atrocities to good literature. If all else fails, I'll use them as kindling for an outdoor barbecue if he doesn't turn out to be next year's DADA professor.

Holy shit, Simon Baker is the face claim for this world's Gilderoy Lockhart.

That was small beans compared to the real what the fuck is going on finding. Daniella went to get a map of the Wizarding Quarter while I went browsing. Turns out maps are close to the Muggle section and um...

Well...

There is an actual book series called The Muggle Born (And Raised!) Guidebook.

I shit you not.

It's like the An Idiot's Guidebook series we have in the non-magical/normal world. They range from all sorts of subjects; from How To Write and Correspond Like a Wix (which is apparently the gender neutral term for magic folk) to The Workings of the Wizengamot. The series was a bookshelf to itself; there were so many of them! They were your standard size books; some were thicker than others depending on what was covered. And there were of course moving diagrams as wizarding tomes are want to have.

I could feel how disturbed my clone was and I went to find her in the section. She was practically sheet white as she handed me one of the books and I read the front cover. I blanched at the name of the author and shook my head in disbelief. This had be a mistake or something. I went and got another of the series. Same writer.

In fact all the books were written by the same person.

I'm pretty you guys can guess why I'm freaking out but I'll still tell you.

The author who's penned all those guidebooks?

Their name is Daniella Radcliffe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! May 2020 be a blessed year.  
> It was a toss up between Simon Baker and Cary Elwes as Gilderoy Lockhart. I decided I couldn't live with myself if I chose Wesley as that incompetent bastard so I gave the job to Patrick Jane.  
> This is the first major character who has been traded out in terms of actors portraying them in this fic series. There will be others. You have been warned.  
> If you like Kenneth Branagh, then sorry but also not sorry. Also in case someone wondered why I said the name Benedict when talking about Kenneth, it's because he starred in a film version of Much Ado About Nothing and he played Benedict. Emma Thompson was also in it as Beatrice. One of my favorite films.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The curve balls keep coming as we finish our shopping. Also I left a hint about next chapter. I am very sad about clotted cream.

I bought every single one of those damn books. All the ones from Lockhart and the Muggleborn (and Raised!) Guidebooks. The latter for information reasons and the former just because I wanted to see for myself how they were (and possibly burn them in anger). Inside I'm shaking by the author's pen name for the guidebooks, my mind dizzy trying to figure out how they're the same as the fake name I gave my fake guardian.

Maybe it was a coincidence?

Just a very weird coincidence?

Oh please for the love of god let it be a coincidence!

Because if not then my mind is building up one very disturbing scenario where I got attacked by a time turner and jettisoned to some time before these were published. Either that or...

No.

No, that scenario is too weird to even give voice to. I'm gonna go with giant mega coincidence with attacked by time turner as a backup.

I was right when I thought I had spotted a little coffee shop-slash-eating area in that back. They had a basic fair that I remembered from my past life being served in similar places (coffee, tea, hot chocolate) and a few edibles (cookies, croissants, muffins, and the like). Because I'm now British, I order tea. Okay, technically Daniella ordered the tea and some blueberry scones with extra butter and some clotted cream but it still counts!

Also as if the weirdness unfolding around me couldn't be worse, I've just now realized Daniella does not speak with a British accent.

And she looks a lot like Jennifer Connelly.

Which means I am going to look like Jennifer Connelly the older I get.

I always thought female Harry Potter would look like Felicity Jones back in my old life. Hmm...

You know what? I have no complaints on this. Especially given how I've already got the rampaging alert that Simon Baker is Gilderoy Lockhart. And my guardian shares the same damn name as a guidebook author for muggle born and raised wix. A name I chose as a damn joke on Daniel Radcliffe, I might add! How I look falls really damn short on the scale of things to worry about.

I take a sip of my tea once it's cooled enough hoping it will calm my newly born nerves. Daniella takes the letter handed to her by that goblin in Gringotts out and reads it silently. I watch her eyes widen comically as a confused expression takes over. What the hell does it say?

She finishes and holds it out for me to take. “This is not going to help our confusion,” she remarks as I take the letter.

 

**Dear Ms Radcliffe,**

**We request your presence at noon tomorrow to discuss your vaults and holdings.**

 

Vaults? As in plural? And what holdings?! Until today I never stepped foot into Gringotts or dealt with goblins!

 

**As your business is also tied in distinctly with that of your charge, one Hadriana Potter, this meeting will take several hours and lunch and refreshments will be provided at no cost to you.**

**Gringotts looks forward to continuing working with you and hopes the matters at the meeting will be able to be dealt with as swiftly and painlessly as possible so that you and your charge may go forward into the school year well informed and prepared for the coming storm.**

**Sincerly,**

**King Steelrook**

**Leader of the Goblin Nation of Gringotts**

 

“Tell me I'm reading this wrong and this did not come from whom I'm reading it came from?” I ask, a note of panic in my voice.

“No, that definitely says what you think it says,” Daniella confirms, spreading some clotted cream on a scone half. Well what do you know: they _do_ look like biscuits from the Southern United States! In case anyone is confused how I am just now realizing this given my food catalogue I get my meals from at home, I would like to point out it's pretty much acclimated to my past life's tastes and lingo so I've been pretty much going on Chinese, Japanese, and American cuisine for the last 5 years of my independence.

It has a metric fuck ton of choices in there though so I haven't really been using it to its fullest potential.

I really need to fix that.

This letter sounds all polite and business-like but there's a sense of ominous I get, especially with the 'prepared for the coming storm' bit. And with that bit about Hadriana I can definitely cross out 'handed to the wrong person' idea with this thing.

Why is this confusing shit happening to me now? Is it because I've taken up the spot of Harry Potter for this verse? It is, isn't it?!

I discover after eating the half of scone with clotted cream on top, I do not like clotted cream and a soft or whipped butter is preferable to my tastes. This makes me sad as I waited two lifetimes to finally have the actual stuff and I find I don't like it.

There is a lot of suckage going on today.

Once we finished our snacks that should tide us over until we've completed our shopping (Hagrid is still Missing-In-Action since parting with us) we stick our book purchases in my magus cards and head out. I've decided to see if Tom's got a room to rent for the next couple of days at the Leaky since now I've got to go to Gringotts tomorrow and still want to explore Diagon Alley and other parts of the Wizarding Quarter before I have to go to Hogwarts. Not to mention, I'm not done perusing through Flourish and Blotts. I haven't even started going through this wonderland.

Determined to finish up the rest of what's listed on my school supplies sheet and not get any more extras at this time, I head over to Potage's Cauldron Shop to get my pewter cauldron and then Wiseacres for the rest of the equipment.

Cauldrons are very pretty and I saw an decorative silver one that a stray thought in my head said, “I wonder if Snape would like that?”

Because you can't see a cauldron and not think of the man you're infatuated with, can you?

I wonder what he's up to right now. Is he at Hogwarts brewing for the infirmary? Has he gone on a trip to collect ingredients? I wonder if people give him presents at Christmas or his birthday. He's really handsome. Probably has a lot of admirers.

Concentrate on the task at hand, you daft bitch.

An assistant at Wiseacre's explained the difference in using crystal phials versus regular glass ones. The crystal are harder to break without a charm and tend to enhance the effects of certain potions stored within. When I make the eventual visit to the apothecary and potion stores, I need to remember to ask them what different kinds of materials phials come in.

Finally (because parchment and quills are not listed as required purchases for school) I make the last shopping stop of the day.

Ollivander's.

We stand outside the shop for a few minutes, just taking it in. I honestly wonder how this will be different than canon. Will I still get the holly and phoenix feather wand? Or will I get something totally different? If I do get something different, I expect any fights in a cemetery aren't going to end with a _Priori Incantatem_.

Not that there will be any fights in any cemeteries if I have anything to say about it. I will leave the god damned Wizarding world before they force me into that fucking tournament. You can fuck right off and I will hide out in a pocket dimension for the rest of my life until the next incarnation.

I realize Garrick Ollivander is probably a busy man but get an assistant to clean up the place! Holy shite! 'A thin layer of dust coating everything', my ass. I thought the movie made it looked in need of some help but this is twice as bad. I'm not really scared of spiders but I'm really hoping that just a whole bunch of cobwebs around here. Although with how dark this place is, spiders would love it.

“Good afternoon, Miss Potter,” came the very familiar voice of John Hurt to my ears and the man looks dead on the same from the films. Well, maybe not dead on. His hair's long and he's got it pulled back with a ribbon. But other than that I see no difference.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” I greet back.

“I was wondering when I would be seeing you,” he stated from his place in the stacks, floating tape measures and a quill and ink ready to take notes in coming. He came out to stand near me and looked down. Those are some shiny quicksilver coloured eyes. Unnerving. “Interesting. Many people thought you would have your mother's green eyes but with your father's hair and colouring. Very interesting to see how things can be different than what is expected or told to us.”

Okay. This is not the conversation I remember happening in either book or film.

He turns from me and the tape measures go to work.

Luckily he doesn't ask which is my wand arm. He asks if I'm left handed or right handed which makes far more sense to ask a child. I wonder to myself if wand length has anything to do with the length on one's arms. “It is a joint combination of reach distance and height,” answers the apparently psychic wandmaker and I freeze up just a little bit.

“Relax you posture,” he directs me and I glance over at Daniella, who is staring at Garrick Ollivander like he's an alien. I breath in and out deeply and do as he says but this visit is putting me on edge. Haven't I been thrown enough curve balls today?

We're soon done with the measuring portion of the program and on comes the trying of the wands. The first two don't even get out the box before he pulls them back like the very boxes will burst into flame if I touch them. What they were made of strikes me as odd: he said willow for the first wood and mahogany for the second. Weren't those the same wood wands Lily and James had?

“Sometimes one will share an affinity for a wand similar to the parents: either wood or core,” Ollivander answers my very much not-verbalised query. “It appears neither wands of similar materials would agree with you.”

That would explain why in the series, Augusta Longbottom gave Neville his dad's wand. Don't get me wrong: I think Neville's family in the book series has issues. But the whole synchronous energy would be a reason why she would give Neville his father's wand. I think it was a poor choice to do so given his magic in at least book one was incredibly hard to handle (not Seamus Finnegan levels but still).

Ollivander is pulling box after box down and most of them aren't even getting touched because I had at least two where the boxes slid out of my reach (apparently by the wands own power) before I grasped the top if Mr Ollivander doesn't take them away before they do so.

“A tricky customer indeed,” he mused aloud but he honestly doesn't look put out at all. Guess the man really does love a challenge. “Maybe that one?” he wonders, more to himself than me. “But wouldn't it be too obvious?” He looked at me, those quicksilver eyes appraising me. Once again, I really hope I'm not being hit with legilimency because I'd believe it possible with eyes like that.

“How much do you believe in fate, Miss Potter?”

What is with this trip?!

“I believe in reincarnation and Karma. And that Life enjoys itself by giving the occasional drop kick to your pants, Mr. Ollivander, sir. Fate and Destiny whether they are two different entities or the same is tricky. On one hand sometimes things just happen and it's too clean to be a coincidence but you can't see how it would happen from a man made perspective. Does that make sense?”

He wandered behind his desk and had ascended the ladder again as I spoke. “Very much so, Miss Potter,” he replied. “It's like when you go somewhere to grab a special item that in all expectations was sold out but it just so happens a new shipment arrived not 5 minutes before you stepped inside.”

“I love it when that happens,” Daniella stated.

“It is,” Ollivander agreed, “a heady feeling. One of the best there is.” He takes out a box and I just know what it contains from the way he's holding it. The lid is carefully removed. “I ask about Fate, Miss Potter, because I wonder if this wand will be a sign of it.”

There it is. The wand used canonically by Harry James Potter. “Holly and Phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Nice and supple.” I didn't realized I said it out loud until Ollivander said, “Well spotted, Miss Potter. Clearly you have a good eye.”

“I just -”

“Don't worry,” he interrupted, waving my words off. “Your secrets are your own. Let's give it a wave.”

I would like it known here and now, I was not rooting for me to get the same wand as canon. I have a wand I've always wanted and although I respect Harry's wand, it's still Harry's. Not Hadriana's or even something I would have had custom made for me.I have serious doubt his wand would even work with my magic. I feel something between disappointment and guilt when I grip the handle and a rush of belonging seems to erupt from the wand itself.

The wand's magic may be happy but I feel like I'm cheating and I hate that feeling outside of using a Cheat Device on video games.

“The wand will choose the wix, Miss Potter. Even when one crafts them from custom materials, the wand still chooses the wix.”

“That may be true, Mr. Ollivander, but I still feel as if I'm till intruding on someone else's territory.”

A gnarled finger reaches out and brushes my bangs to the side and even though he's practically a stranger, I find myself unwilling to pull back. Silver eyes rest upon the scar on my forehead. “Fate, as you say, Miss Potter, is a funny thing. There are times we feel undeserving of its gifts or even wish to reject them. I think you will find this wand no matter how you've come to be here, does belong to you. No matter what name or title you claim.”

I stare up at him with wide eyes and watch him quirk his lips in a smile before taking the wand from me and putting it into the velvet lined box. “Will you be wanting anything besides the wand?”

We get a holster and a polishing kit with oils that smell really good. Ollivander shows me how to polish the wand since I've never used like actual oils and cloth in my life. Up until now I've used the aerosol sprays when I cleaned by hand and you don't really want to do that with wands. “They don't mind spritzing,” Garrick explained, “but the compressed air tends to be too cold for something sensitive like magical wood.”

“Got it,” I said with a grin. “No using Pledge on Holly here.”

“Indeed.”

We thanked him and were turning to leave before he called out, “Oh! Ms. Radcliffe?”

Given how he had barely even seemed to notice my guardian up until this point and with how this whole trip has gone made his addressing her by her name and knowing who she is that much creepier.

“Your wand will be ready tomorrow for pick up whenever you are available. I believe you will be very pleased with what you receive. Some of my best work.”

…

You know what? I'm not even gonna ask. We just thank him and get the fuck out of the shop. I can't handle any more surprises or changes from the canon today. I just wanna go get dinner, find out where the fuck Hagrid's been all this time and see if I can rent a room for the night. I am tired. I have been yelled at. I missed out on the canon first meeting with Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore's got custody of my fucking vault key which I'm pretty sure is theft and wonder what he's been doing with it. Hagrid's been a rude brainwashed person and gone this entire time. I've not eaten anything substantial since breakfast, just that scone and tea. Ollivander's wasn't anything like the books or films. Simon Baker is Gilderoy Lockhart. And my guardian shares the same name as a published author who pens in depth help books for kids and people entering the British Wizarding World.

Oh, and I got hit with a touch of want and melancholy when I was looking at cauldrons because my attraction to Professor Severus Tobias Snape has hold of me bad. Let's just add that to the list as well. I still have no idea what Dumbledick told Hagrid that made him so defensive and low level hostile in regards to Daniella. At least I'm hoping it was the old fart's doing since I can't imagine why if I was attacked with a time turner and sent into the past, what reason I would have antagonized Hagrid. He also hasn't shown any sign Daniella and he have met before so... What's going on?

I need food and answers and I can get at least one of those at the Leaky Cauldron so off we go.

If I'd had an idea that I would have preferred Hagrid being absent from my presence and just ultimately forgetting he was supposed to guide me around as opposed to what would happen we reconnected with him at the LC, I probably would have said fuck it and opened a potral to send my ass back home. Just cut out any more drama from the day.

Even if it ended up with having Severus Snape come to our rescue. And having dinner with him.

…

You know what? Fuck that. I still would have risked the altercation with a buzzed Hagrid if the pay off was spending time with Snape and getting to eat a meal with him.

Because despite the man being a right asshole in the books, I still wanted to live the dream and share a meal with him. And it was a surprisingly pleasant affair, thank you very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? Opinions? Feel free to leave them. Also I love John Hurt too much to switch him with any one else so no fan cast changes! One of these days, I'm gonna learn how to make one of those boards where I can properly put up a person's image so that you can see who is getting fixed and who isn't. And I'll make Pintrest (or however you spell it) for this fic.  
> Also, yes: I did initially have Felicity Jones as older looking Hadriana but apparently my love for Jennifer Connelly had her slot right inside the Daniella parts so *throws hands out in surrender*. If you don't know who either of those lovely ladies are, like I said: I gotta do a Pintrest and I gotta learn photoshop.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware the new tags

I want you to imagine me running my hands down my face as you read this next sentence.

I don't know how to even begin with the whole seeing Hagrid drinking in the Leaky Cauldron when we came back into the establishment.

He had a bowl or rather a miniature cauldron of soup and a plate of food with at least one tankard in front of him.

It's sad to say this is pretty much how I expected to find him after being missing-in-action all this damn time. The only difference is he's got food in front of him.

The pub's practically empty now which feels odd to me but I'll ignore it. Hagrid doesn't even look up when the little bell over the back door rings to signify someone's come into the building from the alleyway.

After the day I've had and everything, I don't even have the energy to be mad at how badly Hagrid's failed in his escort duties. I'm just incredibly disappointed.

I'd honestly just leave him and see if Tom had a spare room, get some dinner, and then wait until he either remembers I exist, notices us in the pub, or goes back to Hogwarts. But he's got my train ticket and theoretically I can't get on the damn platform without it.

The things I do for canon, I swear.

Because just going over there to a possibly very drunk man of such massive size is a potentially bad idea, I nod my head at Daniella in the direction of the bar so she can ask Tom how long Hagrid's been here as well as see if she can square a room away for us for at least tomorrow. I glance around the pub with my eyes occasionally resting back on Hagrid or looking over at Daniella. She comes back over to me and she does not look happy.

“He's been at that table for hours. Tom says he came in about less than an hour after we exited the pub with him, sat down and started drinking. Gave him some soup and a meal to make sure he wasn't so drunk he couldn't get safely back to Hogwarts.”

Perfect.

“A room's available so we don't need to worry about going back to Cokeworth for the night. He says the sheets are clean and we can order dinner until about 10 but afterwards the kitchen is closed until 6 in the morning. They start breakfast around then.”

Okay. Good.

“Let's go speak to Hagrid,” she encouraged and took my hand. We approach his table; he's still oblivious to our presence when we get there. I think he's mumbling to himself which is not encouraging. We wait a few minutes and then I speak.

“Mr. Hagrid.”

He stops mid whatever he was saying and blinks up at me. “Hadriana!” Oh god I think he's slurring. “Ye get your robes done? We can go pick up yer books and wand now!”

“You never told us to meet back up with you here, Mr. Hagrid,” Daniella reminded him. “You said you'd come find us... that was over 6 hours ago. She's gotten all her shopping done.”

“Can't be that long! I only stopped in for a pint,” Hagrid stated and took out his watch. “See? It's only... Oh blimey. That can't be the right time! The shops'll be closed soon! I hope you didn't dawdle and got all your bits and bobs.”

Is he actually implying that I've just been wasting time? While he's been here drinking?!

Stay calm. Probably not a good idea to yell at large drunk man whose parentage is rather strong against magic.

“I got everything that was on my list,” I assure him.

“You sure you got enough parchment and quills? You don't want to be running out,” he stated. “Although you can probably get your guardian to pick some up in case you start running low.” He says guardian like he's got a bad taste in his mouth. Or like when he called Vernon a muggle in the first film.

“That's not on the list so she didn't get those,” Daniella informs him with a frown.

“How can you expect the girl to do her classwork without parchment, quills, and ink?!” Hagrid shouts and we both take a step back, me a little bit behind Daniella. I glance over at the bar where I see Tom is watching us very closely.

“The same way she's been doing it: with pens, pencils, and regular paper,” Daniella snaps.

“You can't bring muggle writing supplies into Hogwarts!” Hagrid blusters. “It's an outrage! She'll be laughed at left and right for not fitting in!”

“They weren't on the list therefore she's not required to have them.”

“It don't matter if it's not on the list! Everybody knows you need to get them! Even some unwelcome interloper such as yourself should be smart enough to know the students use wizarding supplies in a wizarding school!”

“Oh? Is that what Dumbledore called me when he told you to come escort us around the Wizarding Quarter today?” Daniella asked. “An unwelcome interloper?”

She's probably fighting very hard not to ask if this was before or after he told Hagrid not to let me have my vault key even after my visit.

“It's Headmaster Dumbledore and what he told me is none of your concern! Stop trying to change the subject when you've obviously messed up and not gotten Hadriana her proper gear and all!”

Unbelievable!

“Coming from the man who's been here for the last 6 hours drinking despite his instructions to escort us that's very rich,” Daniella replies. “Also I do not have to call him Headmaster as I am not his student, have never been his student, and given how several items we apparently need aren't on the list, it's starting to look like Hadriana isn't going to be either! If anyone has been failing their at their jobs today, it's you and Dumbledore.”

Hagrid raises his pink umbrella up and waves it at my clone just as he did back in film one at Vernon. “Don't you ever insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me,” he growled.

Oh that's -

“Is there a problem here?”

The honeyed voice of Alan Rickman/Severus Snape has never sounded so sweet or welcome to behold.

“Oh Perfessor Snape,” Hagrid says, looking every bit as shocked as I am that the Potions Master of Hogwarts is here. “What can I do for you?”

“Putting your umbrella away and no longer threatening an unarmed woman and child would be an excellent start,” Snape replies.

Hagrid's liquor flushed cheeks went a deeper red with embarrassment as he lowered his umbrella.

“As for my presence here,” Snape explained, “I discovered I was low on a few ingredients and decided to visit the local apothecary. I noticed Miss Potter and her guardian seemed to be unaccompanied wandering around Diagon but paid it no mind. Until I came into the Leaky for lunch and found you sitting here. I was under the impression you were expected to accompany them.”

“Them carts at Gringotts make me ill,” Hagrid informed him. “I need a drink to settle me self.”

“Which might be believed if you'd left to rejoin them after you had one drink,” Snape countered. “However I have been informed that you did not stop at one drink and given the shouting match I stepped into, it would seem you were derelict in the escort duties assigned to you.”

“The Radcliffe woman is being disrespectful to the Headmaster!”

“I am not behooved to call him anything but Dumbledore as I have never been his student or met him before this summer,” Daniella snapped. “And you've been hostile to me since we started this trip for no reason other than you view me as some quote 'unwelcome interloper'.”

“She's not gotten Hadriana her proper supplies nor is she the people he left her with!” Hagrid shouted, pointing at Daniella. “She just sauntered up and took her from them muggle Durselys and had her kept from knowing anything. I heard him talk to McGonagal 'fore I left about how they can't find 'em in Britain no more. What you do to them?!”

Ah, now we're getting somewhere. I almost wish Skeeter were here; she would eat this shit up. I don't know how much Tom can hear of this conversation because I'm very much afraid we won't be renting the room for the night after all. Guess I'll be taking the Knight Bus to the Leaky tomorrow after all.

Snape grabbed Hagrid's wrist and looked at us. “If you'll excuse us for a moment, Miss Potter, Ms. Radcliffe. I need to have a word with my fellow employee.”

“Feel free to speak with him as long as you want,” Daniella stated. “I think it's about time we headed home.” I felt her hand rest protectively on the back of my head. As much as I would have loved to stay and Snape watch, after the day we've had and getting into a fight with Hagrid I was at my limit.

“If you could stay until I've finished dealing with our groundskeeper, I would be most appreciative.”

Put a girl on the spot, why don't you?

Daniella looks at me and I look at her. I should say no. I should go home. But Snape. Appreciative Snape!

God I am pathetic.

“All right then,” clone agrees and we both go to sit at a nearby table. I'm thirsty so I decide to go to the bar and see if I could get some ice water. “How about some nice cold gillywater instead?” Tom suggested. “It's tastier and you look like you need it.”

Now I know what Gillywater is, but I'm supposed to be ignorant of wizarding stuff so I ask him about it. He explains in a very entertaining way about how Gillywater is normal water but it's been filtered through Gillyweed which for ages has been used as a natural water filtration agent in the wizarding world.

I ordered two glasses and brought them back to the table. Up until this point I haven't tested to see if my clone can actually consume food and beverage but we've made appearances that she at least has received her own portion. I always end up finishing what she gets because she tends to switch out our servings.

Snape has finished speaking with Hagrid and I watch the large man head towards the Floo looking upset. I really hope he gave Snape my ticket otherwise I'm not heading to King's Cross on September 1st. People can run around in a panic when their girl saviour doesn't show up as planned because Dumbledick chose the wrong person to help me. I really liked Hagrid from the books and films and to see this version of him just hurts. He was supposed to be better than this.

Snape approaches our table and bows slightly.

“Hagrid has returned to Hogwarts and I will speak with the Headmaster about his unbecoming behaviour and dereliction in duty personally, Ms. Radcliffe,” Snape promises. He glances towards the chair across from her as if to ask if he may sit and she nods. We're sitting at the same table as Severus now!

“Is that normal for him?” Daniella asks, pretending to take a sip of her water. Snape shakes his head. “On the contrary, from what interactions I have had with him Hagrid is often overly polite although not disingenuous. He usually performs his job well if not a little overzealous and forgetful that his biology affords him far more resistance to magical damage than the rest of us. He is an oaf but a good hearted one. However I will not excuse his behaviour nor will I ask you to either. I will only apologize in my minor capacity as a representative of the school Miss Potter will be attending. If you haven't decided to revoke your decision to attend?”

Now he's turned those black eyes on me and I swear I am not blushing. It's the tired flush from the day. That is all. Shut up.

“I'm a little bit concerned that after Hagrid's statements about me not not getting everything I need, if I should really attend since the supply list is obviously lacking what's considered the right stuff,” I say. “I don't even know what is appropriate to wear besides my robes since most schools have a more in depth uniform. Madame Malkin told me until about ten years ago the uniform was closer to non-magical schools but was reduced to the current one, Sir. This leaves me free guessing what would and would not be appropriate under robes wear. I don't want to bring clothes and then get in trouble because they were too muggle since apparently non-magical items are looked down on.”

“Your father and his friends would have loved to have such lenient uniform standards,” Snape reflects. “Knowing James Potter, he would have gone nude at least once underneath.”

“I've been made aware how much of a prankster my biological father was in his school days, Professor,” I tell him. I emphasize the word prankster with a good deal of sarcasm. “I don't think I would have liked him very much if what I've been told about his friends and he is correct.”

“I have been advised not to speak ill of your father, Miss Potter. However I will agree with you that what friends he surrounded himself with were not kind to those they viewed as beneath them.”

I bite my tongue so I don't ask if he was one such student and sip my water.

“I will relay your feelings on the lack of items to the Headmaster when I make my report,” Snape promised. “Though I have very little expectation that he will do anything about it as he seems to have _other_ things on his mind.”

“Like an unwelcome interloper?” Daniella asked.

I swear I saw the corner of his mouth twitch just for a second. I swear it!

“The Headmaster has voiced a few concerns about you, that much is true,” he confirmed. “Would you both be open to sharing a meal with me here before you adjourn back to Cokeworth? It is late and it will be several hours on the train. And the Leaky's fare would be far more satisfying than McDonald's.”

“I don't know: they make an awfully delicious fish sandwich,” I reply as my inside voice in screaming out how I was just asked to have dinner with Severus Snape.

With Snape.

Snape.

SEVERUS SNAPE!

Graham Chapman bursts into my thoughts telling me to stop that silliness and look at my crush. Both he and Daniella are gazing at me expectantly. “I would be okay with it,” I say. “But only if you're certain you want to, Professor Snape, Sir.”

“I would not offer if I wasn't, Miss Potter.”

I hope you mean that, Severus Snape. Because a little worm in my gut is wriggling around trying to remind me that I don't know this man, as in _this_ Snape. He could be trying to get on my good side now in case Dumbledore orders him to befriend Daniella in order to lure her into a trap so that the Order can kidnap me!

Thanks, Brain. You just ruined a happy moment. Did you have to do that? I didn't want to think of those kinds of things!

A cool hand brushes my forehead. I look up at Daniellla who looks concerned. “What's wrong?” she asks softly. I shake my head. I am not going to let melancholy show up and ruin the only chance I will get to have dinner with Severus Snape. “Really long day,” I half lie. It's not a complete lie since this has been one of the most chaotic days of my very short incarnation. She nods in understanding. Meanwhile Snape orders for all three of us and soon we're presented with a very lovely looking spread.

I have just realized I have a very big problem.

Remember what I said earlier with drinks? Well it's not the same with food. At least we haven't practiced and refined looking like he clone is eating without actually eating. Shit! Shit shit shit!! What am I going to do?! There is no way we are going to be able to bullshit our way through this meal! This is Severus Snape! He observes things even better than fucking Dumbledore and Voldemort combined!!! Double Agent Extraordinaire!

Fuck! Why did I agree to this?!

Because you saw the opportunity of a lifetime to have dinner with the actual Severus Snape and jumped at it like a fucking Gryffindor, you stupid cunt!

Wait a second. I glance at the stuff that's in front of my side. There's a vareity of cold meats, a trio of different cheeses, tomato slices, sliced fruits, some regular pickles, what looks like pickled onion, berry (I think that's berry) relish, and a bowl of mixed salad greens with some kind of creamy dressing coating the leaves.

“What's this?” I ask. I think I know what it is but I can't be sure.

“It is called a Ploughman's, Miss Potter,” our male companion explains. “It is a two person meal usually served for lunch but they offer a wider assortment of items when one has it for dinner here. I assumed it would be more appropriate fair for Ms Radcliffe and yourself. I ordered the Game Pie for myself.”

We also have a pot of tea in front of us to drink so that was nice of him. “Would you like some wine with your meal, Ms Radcliffe? The Berry Ocky Rot tends to pair well with the cheeses they served.”

Daniella winced. “I'm afraid after the day we've had, Mr. Snape, that a glass of wine would relax me far too much and we still have a journey to make back to Cokeworth. If our plans to stay the night here at the Leaky had remained so, I would take you up on that offer. Perhaps another time will provide me the chance to try a glass.”

I kind of would have liked to try some honestly but I'm stuck in a child's body and no matter what some societies think, I'd rather not start imbibing before my teen years.

My guardian prepares our tea while I arrange some bits on the two smaller plates provided to us. I'm nervous as hell about the clone trying to eat while not actually eating in front of Snape but I don't have much choice in the matter since I agreed to do this.

“I recall you saying you had not visited the Wizarding Quarter before today, Miss Radcliffe.”

Daniella accepted the plate I handed her as she nodded. “That is correct.”

“And your accent? American? I detected a very slight southern drawl while you were exchanging words with Hagrid.”

Holy shit? I kept it?!

“I've lived several different places but before I came to Britain I was housed in the American South.” Which is true. I spent my entire previous life in the Southern state of Tennessee. The accent wasn't as pronounced as say someone who'd come from Kentucky or Georgia but it was definitely vivid. I guess it was so dear to me, I couldn't drop it with this rebirth. Doesn't help I didn't truly get reborn like my other times so the residual accent sticking with me is more understandable.

“How do you find your living in Britain compared to where you were? I'm afraid I do not get to experience much of the culture of the places I have been able to go to on my rare trips to find ingredients for potions. And hearing another's opinion is supposedly good for broadening the mind.”

I know I'm being interrogated and am trying to choose my answers carefully. The chance is high he'll report to Dumbledore after we split ways so I have to be cautious.

Not really a strong ability of mine.

“The urge for a prolonged visit to my old place of living sometimes crops up,” Daniella admits. An understatement. Sometimes the nostalgia feels hit so hard I'm tempted to portal my ass to Rock City and then staying outside Chattanooga. Best part would be that I'd have the ability to live exactly the way I'd always wanted when I was magicless and poor. I'm a little behind on making my old life's fantasies come true but it's still an idea if the Triwizard Tournament happens and I'm roped into that horse shite. “Living in Britain after so many years in America and experiencing life in England is almost surreal after only imagining it through media. Even though it’s been years since I came, I am sad to say I haven’t even scratched the surface of this place. I made a place and then tended to forget at times there’s a whole other new culture to absorb. At least until I leave the house. And then I kick myself for letting my introvert and desire to be comfortable and content rule over my sense of adventure.”

“Not one to go seeking bold new things, Ms. Radcliffe?” Snape asked, taking a sip from whatever that is he ordered. Is it brandy? Might be. I really wish I was the adult right now. A glass of wine would make this seem romantic. 

“I do not seek out new life and new civilizations intentionally, Professor,” Daniella joked at his paraphrasing of Star Trek. “But I have found myself in some interesting situations without meaning to. My living situation with Hadriana is an example. I did not seek out the supposed Saviour of your wizarding world, Professor Snape. I was just placed in the position to save her from the horrors a certain Headmaster of yours decided to let her live with.” Uh oh. This is about to get ugly. Don’t do it! We’re living the dream! “May I ask you something personal, Professor Snape?”

He stares at Daniella for a moment, enjoying a mouthful of his meal before answering. “I may not give an answer but you may ask me what you wish.”

“You did not like James Potter and his friends when you all were in school together. The derision you had in your tone when saying what you did during our parent/teacher meeting told me enough on that subject.”

“That’s not a question,” he stated.

“No, it’s what I know to be a fact. This is my question: Would you trust the welfare of a child, even should they be the one of your most hated enemy, to a man who places a helpless infant on the doorstep of a family who abhors everything that child stands for and represents like she was the Morning Post? With nothing but a letter and whisper of good luck to keep her safe? How willingly would you accept it if said Headmaster assured you that the child was perfectly safe and being raised like a princess? Because in my mind, Professor, there isn’t much of a Greater Good when we abandon the most vulnerable of us to live with monsters.”

His dark eyes glance towards me while I look say, “Daniella!” like a chastising parent. I send an apologetic look towards Snape. I know it’s been something I wanted to say but why now?! We’re never going to eat with this man again and I wanted this once-in-a-lifetime event to be good! Now he’s really going to hate me!

I look over at Snape, forcing myself to examine him. He’s got one hell of a poker face going on and he’s not clenching his fork or glass like he’s trying to keep himself in check. He looks 100% composed. He’s pissed. I know it. “So much for an enjoyable dinner,” I mutter taking a bite of ham, tomato, and cheese topped bread.

The problem is he does deserve some of my ire even if I don’t want to give it to him. He never cared about Hadriana. It was always about Lily. And his greatest regret. At least with canon Snape it was.

God that makes me feel bitter and jealous.

There’s a strong length of silence at the table. It’s heavy as those two look at one another and I’m torn between jealousy of my clone keeping eye contact with the man I’m crushing on while managing not to buckle under the realization that she is doing so and irritation that this dinner went from something I was trying to enjoy turned to oppressive silence. 

Finally too fed up to take it any longer, I push back my chair. “We’re going home. Now,” I inform both of them. They look at me. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired. _We’re_ tired.” Daniella nods and gets up with Snape quickly following.

“If you wish to avoid the train, I would be more than willing to allow you use of the Floo connection so you may get back to Cokeworth via my home connection,” he offered.

“Thank you but no thank you, Sir,” I answer before Daniella can. I’m done for the day and too exhausted to even pretend to be a regular kid. Snape, for some reason I can’t say doesn’t react even close to how I think he would/should given how I’m just a kid and calling the shots like I’m the grown up and not Daniella.

“Then allow me to walk you to the train station,” he insists. “After the day you’ve had, it would be only fitting if someone with ill intentions decided to force an encounter with two young women such as yourselves.”

That would be my luck, wouldn’t it? Attacked by something or someone after everything that’s happened?

“All right,” I agree. We head off but not before Snape pays for our drinks and dinners - despite Daniella’s insistence she do so. He refuses to accept, citing how he was the one who ordered for us and invited us to dine so it’s his treat. I’m hoping he makes Dumbledick reimburse him for it all.

I make a hasty trip to the bathroom before we head out, adhering a small dot of a sticker on the lower corner of the door leading into the restroom. I really should do this on a closet or the front door of the Leaky or hell better yet the entry door to the alleyway leading into Diagon but I can’t go looking for random closets and Snape’s waiting so limited options and needs must. 

No one speaks to each other as we go to the train station and Snape is once more insistent he pays. Won’t take no for an answer really so we just let him have his way. I just refuse to say anything when I notice he bought himself a ticket so that he could see us off the mostly empty platform.

As we’re getting on the train, he says, “May we meet again, Miss Potter. Ms Radcliffe.” Which is kind of odd since he’s definitely going to see me again (hello? Potion’s Teacher) but probably not Daniella unless something happens. Which it probably will since no one’s given me my damn ticket platform 9 and 3/4s or told me how to get to Hogwarts. 

Guess the jokes on them.

I watch feeling forlorn as the train takes us away and Snape is soon out of sight.

What a day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter I have ever written.  
> Go watch some Monty Python if you've never seen it yet. I read a fic while halfway done with this chapter and realized malicious compliance was strong before I figured out it was happening and by then I was like, "I'm gonna recommend it. So go read Harry Potter: Master of Malicious Compliance ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/21949021 ) by Watermelonsmellinfellon and give them some love. I didn't know following things to the exact letter of the wording would be so inspiring even before I'd read a fic about it but it's so satisfying.  
> I want to romance so many people and the greasy bat is one of them.


	11. Chapter 11

_**"Ah! There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort."  - Jane Austen** _

 

After the day I’ve had with the prolonged distance I’ve suffered from my house, I’m so happy to be back within these walls. I do not even wish to think about how I have to get up tomorrow and leave again.

I flop face first on my bed, breathing in deep and taking in the feel of comfort being home is. 

Holy shit.

Thing is… I’m an introvert whose extrovert tendencies only come out online. Or at least it was like that in my past life. Any big time things were few and far between my last life with most of the excitement being provided by video games, books, and movies. Course you can’t have many adventures being dirt poor and powerless as a kid but I had a couple. Mostly it was wooded areas and a few big drainage areas like the large pipes and under bridges. 

That probably sounds really stupid but I liked it.

Video games, both console and PC, would help eventually fill in the gap when I could no longer indulge in those explorational adventures. I spent my years of twelve through eighteen  in various mental health facilities and group homes because poor impulse control and bad decisions go hand in hand with that incarnation’s biological penchant for genetically inclined diseases of the mind persuasion.

It’s very hard not to believe them when they tell you constantly that you are insane. When all you have are memories and no ability to do the things you had once been able to do.

I think I may have figured out a reason why I’ve always told myself, “No, we will not go run to Tennessee even though we have phenomenal cosmic power once again!”

I have a very comfy bed.

…

Apparently that was my last conscious thought because I woke up at 7 the following morning still in my clothes from yesterday. Like I said before, I don’t need sleep so the falling into Morpheus’ sweet embrace was rather surprising.

Breakfast is consumed. Shower is attained and I almost forget to wash my hair because my addled brain is like, “How you gonna dry it in time?” Luckily I remembered to respond, “With my magic, bitch! Same way I’m gonna style it!”

And I did.

Of course I nearly did my hair before I dressed, which is usually a bad idea depending on what you’re wearing so I think I might have lost the points I gained from that battle.

Last life didn’t afford me many meetings with high profile people and my wardrobe contained clothes given to me and what little we could afford to purchase from very cheap stores. I more than less understand the Weasley children’s plight about second-hand items being a thing. If I do befriend the family (and of my own volition and not because of some obvious set up by Dumbledick) then I have every intention of giving them stuff if I can. I need to look into Wizard Chess tournaments if Ron and I become friends. See if we can boost his confidence and self-worth by entering him into things he’s got an affinity for. I mean they gotta have competitions and tournaments like those somewhere! It’s practically criminal if they don’t.

I look through my closet to find what might be good to wear for a meeting with one’s Goblin representative. Obviously I need to choose business wear since I’m heading to conduct business but what?

And am I supposed to bring a clone with me? Well they did mention the business involves Hadriana (and do not get me started with how freaked out I am they put down she’s my ward on top of sending me a letter with my alias on it. The only way that could have been weirder is if it was written to me with my past life’s name. You want a sign that there’s a weird ass conspiracy going on? Use the name no one should have any clue was yours. Since no one has used my old name, I’m going to believe this is all a very multi-layered event of misunderstanding.

What did the letter say again?

I take it out of my purse and reread it.

**Dear Ms Radcliffe,**

**We request your presence at noon tomorrow to discuss your vaults and holdings.**

   **As your business is also tied in distinctly with that of your charge, one Hadriana Potter, this meeting will take several hours and lunch and refreshments will be provided at no cost to you.**

**Gringotts looks forward to continuing working with you and hopes the matters at the meeting will be able to be dealt with as swiftly and painlessly as possible so that you and your charge may go forward into the school year well informed and prepared for the coming storm.**

**Sincerely,**

**King Steelrook**

**Leader of the Goblin Nation of Gringotts**

I sit down on the bench at the end of my bed as I examine the words in front of me. Yesterday I didn’t get a chance to really look it over but right now I need to. Bypassing the initial shock that this is coming from the apparent Goblin King slash Leader of the Gringotts Nation, this whole thing confounds me. What vaults and holdings could I possibly have? I never knowingly stepped foot in Wizarding Britain or the Magical World since I gained corporeal form so I couldn’t buy property or open and deposit money and items in a vault. Hell, outside of robbing an ATM using magic, I’ve created everything I’ve ever used from magic itself. I bend if not break reality to suit my purposes.

It’s arrogant and potentially careless but I try to be careful.

Next is how the Goblins or at least this King Steelrook classify me as Hadriana’s guardian. Putting aside for the moment that I _am_ Hadriana because I am inhabiting what was once her body and the real one perished at the age of six, how am I (as Daniella) her guardian? Have I been recognized by the magic of the bank? Did the Potters have a secret friend that I accidentally took the identity of? Is this a joke somehow gone out of hand? How does this work?!

There’s no mention of bringing Hadriana with me but I should still come with a clone just in case. I cast the jutsu and out pops mini-me.

“It’s gonna be another long ass day,” greets Hadriana and I nod.

“At least the letter said they’ll feed us,” I offer as consolation as the clone goes to my closet. “What are you looking for?”

“I want to wear a vintage red dress with white polka dots today,” Hadriana announces as she examines the holdings. “And a Minnie Mouse Bow tie style for my hair. You think we can do that?”

“Add in some cute white gloves and Mary Janes and you’ll look a picture. You want to do tights or knee high socks?”

“Some nice opaque tights.”

I nod. What I don’t own that hangs in my closet or packed in dresser drawers, I have available in a bound book similar to the one I get my meals from. Except it holds clothing options instead of the most diverse options of food known to all of mankind. I will never go hungry or without nice clothes in this life. One lifetime is enough of that for me.

Hadriana grabs a pair of tights from the dresser and my black Mary Janes as I flip through the pages and summon the dress she requested. I look at it for a moment and feel like being picky. “Did you want square neckline of a peter pan round collar?”

“Peter Pan round collar with poofy sleeves. After the strain from yesterday I have a weird feeling like the scars and holes from secret skin want to materialize on my chest.”

Okay. That ruined the facetious feeling. I look at the clone, who is putting on a little chamise slipping on the tights. “That’s not good.”

“You cast a shadow clone jutsu for almost if not more than eight hours, got into several emotionally charged situations, and ended up passing out not ten minutes after returning home. You’re under stress and we’re heading back out to the unknown instead of spending the next few days recuperating like we need to. You’re lucky you’re a fucking omnipotent powerhouse otherwise you’d still be out cold!”

Wow. Voice of reason much? I hand her the dress and go to get dressed myself. The problem is I don’t have anything that I can say feels right hanging in the closet. I don’t feel like wearing a dress partly because Hadriana’s wearing one already. Actually now that I look, I don’t really own anything that says “I’m here for business!” It’s all jeans and very comfy pants.

So back to the book.

I pick out a pair of periwinkle high-waisted pants with matching waistcoat then pull out a short sleeved white button down.

“Put on a bowtie,” Hadriana orders and I snicker but do so, choosing the one that I can’t tell if it’s navy or black. I look over my reflection and I find myself agreeable to the sight. Onto the hair! Hadriana’s hair is done per her request looking like a shiny black bow tie off the top of her head. Pretty as a picture but thank goodness I have magic to help style. Although my/our hair isn’t at all like the crazy unkempt chaotic mess its trademarked in the books/movies, I still need the help when getting results perfected. I didn’t get to do this stuff in my previous life so I’m running blind trying to learn.

Hadriana’s done and I manage to produce a very lovely bun plait for my own sportage. I check the time and find we’ve got some to spare. I still haven’t unpacked the stuff we purchased yesterday so I should do that. I put the guidebooks on a table in my bedroom and then take the ones by Simon Backer to be read outside on the screened in porch. That way I’ll be close enough to the fire pit to toss them in there if they piss me off enough.

“I’m gonna have a lot of reading to do before the first,” I remark as Hadriana puts the textbooks on the living room coffee table.

“Make more clones and have each of us read a book,” she suggests with a shrug. “It’s not like we just disappear into the ether completely once we pop out. You absorb the experience and memories accumulated after we disperse.”

“Seems like cheating though.”

“It’s not cheating! It’s using the assets you have to get the job done more efficiently! Jesus, use some Slytherin thinking!”

“I’m not a Slytherin though!” I retort. I was never cunning enough and I’m certainly not an ambitious person.

“Yeah and you don’t see yourself as a Gryffindor either but somehow everyone else does,” Hadriana reminded me. It’s true. A whole lot of people including the fucking online quiz kept sorting me in that house. 

“I still don’t understand how enduring through shit can be considered a trait of the House of Lions,” I say. “Shouldn’t that be a Hufflepuff thing?”

“Maybe, but you have a tendency to be impetuous to the umpteenth degree with no ability to filter/curb your impulses. And I believe Snape’s said it himself that’s a Gryffindor thing.”

Snape.

“There’s no way he’s celibate,” I state. “He’s probably got a throng of females willing to if not date him than they definitely want to fuck him. We need to stomp this attraction out. Just go back to him being a literary crush.”

“Oh, like that’s possible.”

“It could be! I mean they do die out eventually!” I proclaim. “Besides do we honestly see him as being legit attracted enough to pursue a relationship with us? With a happily ever after until I die and go off on another great adventure never to see him again?”

“There’s no harm in enjoying a fantasy or two.”

“There is when the target is a very real walking, talking six foot tall dark and sexy Potions Master I can actually touch!” I’m gesturing wildly with my hands as I talk and shove them out in the direction of the front door towards what I believe is Spinner’s End. “And may I remind myself (that’s you, by the way) that despite the fact we tend to waltz around looking like we’re in our early twenties, we are in fact using the biological form or a would have been eleven year old! Some people would consider that kind of illegal.”  
“Some people didn’t die in their forties only to find themselves in our position,” she countered. “It doesn’t matter anyways. He hasn’t exactly shown romantic interest or really any kind of interest except for the most basic diving for information that he can give to Dumblefuck. And we didn’t exactly feel him try rooting around in our brains the few times we made eye contact.”

“Which just means the man’s a fucking legilemency ninja and can swoop in and out without a trace.”

Hadriana threw her hands up. “Will you stop being paranoid?”

“I can’t,” I declared. “It’s left over from our past life and it’s not done me any harm all these years. What time is it?”

We glance at the clock which shows it’s almost 11:30. “Shit, we’d better go!” I get the sticker book out and pull up the one that matched the one we applied on the bathroom door at the Leaky last night. I put it on the door frame of our front door and then open the door.

Viola! We just Howl's Moving Castle-d our way to London and the Leaky Cauldron.

Unfortunately this is only a temporary method because the stickers tend to instantly disintegrate after using them as a linked passageway so I can’t come back home this way.

I have a theory that if I can make a symbol of my own and burn/apply it in a permanent way, I can make a less temporary yet more convenient method of arriving to places where it’s more appropriate to walk in through a door than teleport into the place. But I don’t have a symbol I’ve designed myself yet and ones I could borrow don’t feel right to use. So for now I’m using stickers.

Tom gives us both a look of confusion as we pass by since we came out of the hall where the bathroom is located and he didn’t see us come in before. We just keep on walking to the entrance of the back where Diagon Alley is. No one seems to notice us except for Tom so we get through unhindered. 

I use the Holly wand to open the alley and once again step into the Wizarding Quarter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapters got lots of reveals, some questions answered, and some things (probably) more set up. Also the AUsten quote came upon me while I was in Pintrest hell trying to do stuff and I was like, "Well that sums up how me/CFMC feels completely." So you get a quote. You might get more quotes if you want them or I find I like them and they fit in with the chapter.  
> Honestly this chapter was supposed to be the Gringotts one but I was not feeling it happen. Next chapter is definitely Gringotts time!


	12. Chapter 12

We entered Gringotts with five minutes to spare in terms of deadline and with a lot of Goblin eyes staring as we stepped inside. I don’t know why they keep looking at my adult self like this but it’s definitely not my imagination. Although a couple of those black eyes were also assessing Hadriana unlike yesterday when none of them really paid attention when it was me as Hadriana. 

I feel a little weirdly jealous and I don’t like it.

Since I don’t exactly know what else to do, we wait for a teller to open up. It’s busy about just as yesterday with precious stones being carted around and examined. The goblins take their time doing what they want and there’s definitely a feeling of, “You’re on our time and you’ll wait if we say so.” Even when we’re standing at the window, he (are all the Goblins here male?) waits a good few minutes before acknowledging we’re there.

“What business do you have?”

I take out the letter and hand it to him. “I was delivered this letter yesterday while I was accompanying Miss Potter here to her Trust Vault,” I explained. I notice his black gaze widens just a touch at the parchment before him, though the dour look doesn’t change. “I wasn’t told who to meet with.”

“One moment, Ma’am,” was all he said before disappearing like a shot. 

I swear it was less than thirty seconds a pair of guards dressed in different uniforms than those guarding the entrance, both wielding spears, and approaching me and Hadriana. The teller is leading them to me and for a moment, I’m both concerned and terrified. Hadriana (who’d let go of my hand while we were waiting in line) has retaken my hand and is squeezing it hard. Nice to see I’m not the only nervous person. The three of them stop in front of us. “You need to come with us, Miss,” the teller orders. “This way, please.”

We follow him with the two guards flanked behind us. I’m fairly certain at least one person is watching this and just confused as hell with their minds just buzzing with ideas. Hell I know I’d be gawking if I was seeing this from another point of view.

We head to an elevator and Hadriana and I walk in first, the guards second, and the teller last. There’s several buttons lining the panel next to the door and there’s a lever. Glass panel doors slide closed, cutting off the sight of the hallway and Teller (I’m just gonna call him that until I get a name) pulls a metal folding door shut, securing us inside the lift.

“Hold tight, please.”

It’s amazing how someone can say please while it’s obvious they’re actually giving an order.

There’s a bar that runs half way up across the two walls and back of the potential wood and metal death cube. Both Hadriana and I grab hold of it with the hands we aren’t clasping together.

Teller says the words, “Executive floor,” and a trio of the panel’s buttons lit up. The lever lowers on its own and there’s a pause.

Then it feels like gravity just abandoned us and we’re zooming not quite as quickly as when we were speeding on the carts but enough to cause me to white knuckle grip the bar. Nothing like fucking free falling in an elevator! I think before we’re jerked to a stop. The goblins don’t even move at all during this whole event and I’m going to admire that - after my fucking stomach retreats back into it’s normal resting place. 

I hear what sounds like some gears turning before, watch as one of the panel lights goes dark, and then we’re flung backwards.

This is worse than the damn carts.

Another sudden stop. Another light goes off. And then we’re fucking flying up? What in the seven hells?!

Hadriana’s abandoned the bar completely and is hugging the shit out of me while I’m still white knuckled clutching. Goblins? Still utterly unbothered by the movement of the lift.

We finally come coasting to a stop and the lever lowers itself towards the floor as a bell dings. Glass panelled doors open and Teller opens the metal folding gate. He walks out followed by the guards and looks at me. “This way, please.”

I let go of the safety bar and walk out with Hadriana attached to me like I’m her lifeline as we exit the carnival ride disguised as a goddamn transportation device. 

I am too busy trying to reestablish equilibrium to really pay attention to any of my surroundings so I can’t exactly go into details what the hall looks like. All I can tell you is we were led to a pair of very large ornate doors similar to those at the bank’s front guarded by two goblins dressed identically to the ones behind me.

They opened to a very lavish chamber which was just as elaborate as the doors that led into it. Say what you will about goblins, they know how to show off opulence. The space before me that we were led into ended a good 20 feet back with what appeared to be a throne upon some steps. It was all very theatrical looking with more guards lining the pathway, these guys (or girls, I can’t tell) in full medieval armor complete with the helmets that had those feather streamers coming out the top. They were very shiny and impressive. 

Hadriana isn’t clutching me to death but we’re holding hands as we go up to stand in front of the throne where goblin sits with a crown on his head looking like a very regal mofo. I don’t know if I’m happy or disappointed he looks like a regular well dressed goblin and nothing like King Jareth from Labyrinth. Although are we sure Jareth honestly looked that hot normally? Or was it just his magic making him look that attractive?

The world will never know.

Standing to the side on his right of who I can only assume is the goblin king of the nation of Gringotts is a goblin holding a large staff in his gnarled hands like a walking stick. On the monarch’s left was a miniature white marble pillar about the height of an end table. Resting on it was something that looked like… well, it definitely invoked some past life nostalgia feels. 

It looked like a box my mother in my old life had owned once. The box in question had been covered in black velvet like cloth and it opened with a hinge top. Inside there had been a beautiful cut glass water lily flower that would reflect the light with rainbow colours. I used to love watching the sun’s light catch on the glass and it would just dance so prettily.

As with everything else in my old life, it disappeared during the years pending my death. Missing in a scrambled move or stolen by someone; I don’t know which. I never had anywhere I could put it on display anyhow so it was always put somewhere in hopes I could find a spot but never did.

Maybe I can find something like that in this life or summon it from my memories or something when I get home. With my house in Cokeworth, I now have plenty of nice places to display items if I want to.

God I love having magical powers.

Now how the hell do I address a Goblin King?

“Your Majesty, this is the human woman who handed me your letter,” Teller informed the king, whose eyes were staring at me in that kind of calculating way I’ve found goblins do. So this is King Steelrook then.

Do I bow? Do I do the thing where I put one hand over my chest? Do I curtsy? How the fuck does one act in this situation?!

Oh well. Honesty is usually best in these situations. Please don’t let someone threaten me for speaking directly to him.

“I ask for your forgiveness, Your Highness,” I say in my most polite tone. I’m nervous and it more than likely shows. “I’m afraid I’m not sure how one acts in this situation.”

“In my court I prefer those wearing trousers to bow with the arms crossed over the chest,” King Steelrook informed me. “I do not normally conduct business with humans wearing dresses as I’ve found the males are often handling the business. However the few I’ve dealt with who wear dresses have done what you call a curtsy.”

He has a very lovely voice. Not as lovely as Snape’s but it is very nice indeed.

I smile, performing the greeting as instructed. “I will attempt to remember this from now on should I ever be summoned by you again, Your Lordship,” I vow. Hadriana does her best curtsy since she’s wearing a dress.

He nods in accepting. “First thing before we begin, Madame,” he says and snaps his fingers.

In a blink, Hadriana is gone and I’m horrified.

“What the?!” I shout although it might be a shriek. Who the fuck cares?! The Goblin King just vanished my ninja clone!

“Calm yourself, Guest,” the goblin with the staff advises.

“You Kingship just vanished Hadriana Potter,” I reply, most definitely not calming down. Quite the opposite.

“Do you think us fools to not see a copied doll before us?” King Steelrook asks. I can’t tell if it’s sternly so I won’t say it was. I am floored by what he calls my clone though. “Your skills are impeccable but the creation was an unneeded casting on your behalf. I merely did you a service.”

“No intentions to disrespect when I say this, King Steelrook, but you just scared the _shit out of me_!” I snarl. I place a shaking hand to my forehead. Holy shit, Goblin magic is impressive and terrifying.

“My intention was not to frighten you, My Lady,” he explained. “Merely remove the doll you brought to keep up appearances.”

My Lady? Oh my. What the hell is going down? I’m torn between being impressed that they could see the fact Hadriana wasn’t real, terrified of the unknown before me, and confused at what appears to sound like a genuine apology for causing me to freak out.

“No one said I should come alone today,” I remind him. “You mentioned we’d need to go through Hadriana Potter’s affairs. I believed having her here was needed because I wasn’t told otherwise.”

“An oversight on my part then for not being clearer,” the king acknowledges. “One I will attempt to ensure is rectified on future dealings. However, there is the matter of establishing your identity before we proceed.”

Establishing my identity?You mean they don’t know for certain who I am? I don’t know whether to be terrified they’re in the dark or excited to see how they’ll figure it out.

Staff-owner removes a sheet of parchment. “Press your finger on the edge of this and hold it there,” he orders and I look at it and then at him.  “Please,” he adds after a moments of silent stand off. It’s because he adds please that I do it. I’m not really up to snuff on how to deal with Fae and Fair Folk so I’m not sure what proper etiquette works. But please is always a good step.

Reluctantly (because I hate pain and blood loss equals pain in my experience) I press my index finger against the scroll’s edge and wince as it slices open the tip. I follow the instructions and keep it pressed against it while the document absorbs the blood from the wound. We stay like that until the red wax and ribbon keeping the scroll sealed turns blue. He pulls it from me while I pull my hand back and stick my finger in my mouth, healing it.

Staff man gives it to the king who breaks the seal and reads to himself what it says. I say nothing but focus between trying to stand still and occasionally glancing around. I also have a thing about not putting my hands in my pockets because I think that might be a bad idea since pockets hold unseen things to a paranoid mind and I’m surrounded by armoured people with sharp weapons who are very loyal and protective of their monarch.

So keep hands out of pockets. And my bag. Don’t go rummaging in there either. Just stand there and be patient.

After reading the document I’ve bled on, the King snaps his fingers and out pops another parchment that hovers in front of him. It unfurls via magic and he’s now looking between the two as if comparing them.

Why the hell would he be comparing my identity test?

I am not even attempting to hide the confusion on my face at that while the king keeps doing whatever he’s doing with the scrolls and occasionally having Staff look at the stuff too. At least if this was in an office I could comfortably sit in a chair and not stand here like a confused and useless lump.

After an eternity, I hear the words: “This appears in order.” 

King Steelrook rolls the first parchment scroll up while the second one hovers to rest on the top of the box. He hands it to Staff who in turn offers it to me. I glance down at the item before glancing up at the two goblins before taking it. Okay. Time to see what the heck one of these things look like for reals. 

I wonder if identity and inheritance tests differ much?

 

**Name:** Charlotte Jane Phelps

**Aliases:** Daniella Radcliffe 

                Hadriana Linnette Potter

**Age:** 54

**Eyes:** **(Subject has Heterochromia)** Right: Blue Left: Green

**Hair:** Black

**Gender:** Female

**Race:** Human

**Magical Core Strength:** **(Magic Surpasses Known Levels. Cannot Be Measured.)**

**Alignment:** Grey/Neutral

**Living Status:** Alive

**Unique Traits/Abilities:** Anima-Tongue

                                             All Speak

                                             Self Replication

                                             Time Manipulation & Travel

                                             Magical Augmentation, Alteration, & Manipulation

                                             Reality Augmentation, Alteration, & Manipulation

                                             Enhanced Healing

                                             Immunity to Unforgivables

**Languages Known:** **(See Unique Traits/Abilities)** ****

**Highest Education Level Achieved:** Non-Magical American General Education Diploma

**Titles:** Heir to the Ancient House of Potter 

             Heir to the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Slytherin

             Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Gaunt

             Protector to Those in Their Darkest Hour

             She Who Calms the Destructive Wilds

             Proxy of Magic

             Proxy of Death

             Proxy of Time

             Liege Lady of Houses Malfoy, Carrow, LeStrange, Avery, Nott, Rosier, Rowle, Selwyn, Travers, Yaxley

**(Inheritance Test required for full rundown of Vassals acquired by Rite of Conquest)** ****

 

I read this thing three times before it begins to sink in. Too bad it takes 2 more read overs before I can even start to process the words.

You know those gifs with the people just staring and then you have those flashes of really advanced maths things floating in the air?

Yeah. That’s me.

What. In. The. Actual. Fuck? 

“Language, Ms. Phelps. You are in the presence of our King,” Staff Goblin chastised and I looked up at him in shock. Whoops, didn’t mean to say that out loud but still...

“Excuse me, Ser, but I’m having a bit of a crisis here so I can’t exactly filter myself!” I snap. “For one thing I haven’t been Charlotte Phelps since I died in the year 2029! In an alternate reality where there is no such thing as the magic of this place and all this stuff around me is from a book series! So the fact that my old name is apparently still recognized as my name despite everything that’s happened is confusing as hell! Second off, I’m not Fifty-Four! I wasn’t born in this realm - I’ve been inhabiting the vacated body of Hadriana Potter for the last five years so I don’t know how the test is measuring my age!”

“The identification calculates the age you were inn the most recent life upon death and added the five years you have been in a physical body,” Staff informs me. “We are aware of your multiple deaths and rebirths-”

“What?!”

“But the added numbers are irrelevant and thus your true age has not been stated,” he continued. “In regards to your name, it is the signifier of your true identity. You inhabit Miss Potter’s body but you do not accept that you are Miss Potter. Magic grants you Miss Potter’s identity due to the fact you would have been Miss Potter should your arrival to our world been the standard rebirth cycle. It was not and, instead of being born, you were stationed as a watching spirit.”

At some point I’ve started pacing and not realizing it. “No disrespect, but how the fuck do you even know that?!” I demand.

“This is not the first time _we_ have met _you_ , Ma’am,” the King states and I stop. My eyes have got to be huge. “Time manipulation and travel,” I recite. 

Both goblins nod. 

“This test,” King Steelrook summoned the other piece of parchment that he had had earlier, “was made in 1967 when a young woman travelled here to share certain methods of increasing the wealth and prosperity of the Goblin Nation of Gringotts. ‘Friend’s Favour Given For Friend’s Favour Owed’ were her words. Do you have any idea what these words mean, Ms Phelps?”

“I’m not versed in the lore and history of the Fair Folk, Your Majesty,” I admit. “But I’m guessing this person was giving you both a boon while at the same time repaying a debt?”

“That is correct.”

“Okay but I’ve never in all my previous lives had the power to travel or manipulate time! That was the one thing I was never granted regardless of what life I lived,” I explained. “And how do I owe you a favour while at the same time giving you something that increased the wealth of your nation?”

“You have been granted the Proxy of Death, Magic, and Time. You are their chosen agent while in this world.”

“HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN?!” I shout. Some of the guards tense up, their weapons moving towards me but King Steelrook holds his hand up to still them.

“Surely your visions into alternative realities to this realm would give you some idea how that would occur?” Staff questions. “Were you not a scholar of such things?”

“I read copious amounts of fanfiction,” I countered. “Far more than most people should I will admit. But that’s not visions of other realities!”

“How does reading a tale someone wrote of another’s work differ from witnessing the winding paths Fate governs?”

“Because the idea of the content of some of those fics I read being real in some distant pathways is highly disturbing at the very least! You have no idea the sick shite people come up! A lot of what they write is good. Amazing stuff! But I’ve read some fucked up shit, Your Majesty, and the idea that somewhere somehow - oh god I don’t want to think about it!”

Of course this means I am now thinking about it.

For you people who are playing the home game and think, “Oh, it’s not _that_ bad!” I have two words for you:

My Immortal

Need to focus on something else. Right. Now.

“So at some point I somehow learn how to travel through time - hopefully without horrible side effects or wreaking havoc on the space-time continuum and the timeline as I know it. Obviously you do something for me in response to what I bring you therefore producing a fixed point in time. Jesus, this is it isn’t it? You give me an info dump and eventually I master the abilities given to me as Time’s Proxy to give you… what? How to make magical debit cards?”

I had asked that facetiously but those two just broke into very evil looking grins and my eyes widen again.

“They’re very popular,” King Steelrook informed me. “By our estimates it would have taken us at least two decades beyond this one to properly complete the charms and runes necessary to work in tangent with the Muggle banking system. The gold flows freely and exchange rates have increased. Business is good.”

“And good business means a very happy Goblin Nation with a ruler willing to assist me,” I state.

“Indeed,” Staff-man say. “Therefore it is in our best interests to ensure you are well informed and have everything you need to to arm yourself.”

“Please don’t mean that literally because I am not very good at physical combat. Or any combat.”

“Grimhatch means that as a figure of speech, my lady,” Steelrook assures me. Oh good, I can stop calling him Staff man now.

“Those cards must be really good for you guys if you’re helping me out as much as I think you’re going to,” I muse. “The goblins in most fanon are listed as being honorable but you are also businessmen. Which means you’re always looking out for the best deal. And the profits and turn around on the cards are obviously good but good enough to help me with all my questions? As well as figure out the Potter Vaults and whatever else I’ve been given? You’ll forgive me, King Steelrook, if I’m a little suspicious.”

“You would be a fool not to be,” the king replied. “And the Powers do not choose fools to be their proxies. Especially should more than one choose the same person. You see, Ms Phelps, we are obligated to Mother Magic to help those who she burdens with the title of her Proxy. You are the enforcer of her will. You have been given the ability to change the flow of magic, to make it bow to your every whim. You could strip the magic from a wixen or even take it away from the entire world if you desired hard enough.”

I’ve read that fic. I don’t want that reality.

“No.”

Grimhatch and Steelrook eyed me. I shook my head vehemently. “I’ve seen that world. I could hear the screams and cries while the world fell down. There were so many who just barely get by and some were driven mad because of the loss. I will not be the orchestrator to that kind of devastation.”

“Would you strip a Wix of their powers?”

I think of Dolores Umbridge, the Pink Toad of the MoM. Of the Blood Supremacists like Alecto and Amycus Carrow and they’re torturing of students. Of Bellatrix Lestrange, whose madness already made her dangerous but coupled with magic made her ten times as uncontrollable as she would have been just dealing with the Black Family Curse.

I also think of a small boy in an orphanage in the middle of the Blitz. A man who fears the moon and hates himself for something beyond his control. A young blonde with a constantly escaping toad who posses a love for Herbology and that no one would ever have expected to be the bad ass he grows up to be. 

“Not unless they give me a reason.”

“Then may they hope they never do,” said Steelrook before waving his hand towards the box that’s been sitting to the side. The lid opened and inside was a glass sphere that looked only slightly bigger than my hand if I put it in a fist, lay nestled in velvet. I looked back at the King.

“You need to place your hand on the orb,” he instructed. “It will tell you what we cannot.”

I nod and climb the steps slowly, nervous as hell. I put my hand over it and feel a hum the closer I get to it. It’s like some kind of vibration magnetic pull and I step back.

“Okay, I know you’re telling me it will give me information you can’t. But what is it?” I ask as I eye what very well may be an ancient relic with intense suspicion.

“The other thing you brought with you,” Steelrook stated.

Well doesn’t that sound ominous? I look at Grimhatch and the king. “That doesn’t answer my question or ease my anxieties, Ser,” I tell him. “I don’t know if you know what a video game is, but I played quite a few of them in my time and something bad tends to happen to people who touch unknown artifacts.”

“You never told us what it was,” Steelrook explains. “Merely that we needed to hold it until today and that it would tell you everything you needed to know.”

“I cannot believe I decided to go cryptic when I freaking hate cryptic crap!” I mutter. “See I liked it when you told me about the ID test and me bringing you techniques from the future! That was fun! Wait.”

If I came back in time with this in 1967, then how the hell did I give them magical debit card instructions. I wouldn’t even know how to make a regular debit card let alone a magical one.

“Maybe I shouldn’t touch it,” I say after explaining my thoughts. “Because unless that thing takes me to a different plane of existence where some kind of being hands me the instructions after giving me a tutorial on my powers and how to use them, I don’t think I should put my hand on it. Unless I told you to tell me something? Please tell me I gave you guys another code phrase or something!”

“You did, ma’am, but it didn’t make any sense to us.”

I looked at Grimhatch. “Okay?”

“You said for us to tell you, ‘Not all Orbs.’”

I stare at Grimhatch with my mouth open. “Not all Orbs?” I repeat. He nods and I look to the ceiling. “Why do I do this to myself?” I mutter irritatingly. I don’t really have a clue what that means but if it was supposed to be comforting, it fails. I couldn’t tell myself “Good Luck” or “The first steps a doozy”? I choose “Not all Orbs”? 

I suck.

Fuck it. I might as well do it.

I step in front of the box and hover my left hand above the glass ball. With a jerk, the damn thing pulls my appendage on top of it. That’s when everything goes blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you got questions, I have answers. I think. God, this chapter was hard. 4393 words. The ID test was the hardest part and it didn't even reveal everything! Thank you if you plan on sticking with because I plan on having some really nice moments with Snape but I gotta get through some shit in the story before we can get there. But I've been giving snippets to me discord group and they liked them so we'll get more Snape.  
> Also there will be romance. Obviously you guys can tell I'm leaning towards Snape but there's some others too. Don't get pissy about it, okay? I love you guys.


End file.
